A Home Here With You
by mysticxf
Summary: Having become human to live out a lifetime, the Doctor - now John Smith - has to acclimate to his new roles as a husband to Clara and father to their children. (Sequel to 'A Life Without You', Whouffle, Complete)
1. Chapter 1

Clara awoke with a start, fingers of her left hand spreading evenly over the thin layer of cotton that stood between her flesh and the Doctor's and she took a long breath, listening to the silence of night while feeling for the beating of his heart. _His one heart_. The thought both calmed and terrified her because he'd given up everything he'd been for over a thousand years for her, and she couldn't understand how he could be so complacent about that fact.

Lifting herself up to rest her chin in her other palm, she stared down at his sleeping face, grinning over the fact that humanity made him so tired. He'd been human already for a week, he'd told her. He'd gone back just long enough to give him time to establish this life for himself. He'd become John Smith, with three doctorates, a list of accolades, a nomination for a Nobel Peace prize, and a blog about the extraordinary in the mundane; John Smith, who worked with UNIT, who saved the world regularly, and hoped for impossible things.

John Smith, the father of Henry Evan and Olivia Oswin.

_Clara Oswald's _John Smith.

With a sigh, she laid her cheek down upon his breast, snuggling closer to him and reaching around him to hold him tightly because she still couldn't believe he was there. She'd woken expecting to find the empty bed and the aching heart, but she found him. Comfortably sleeping, lost in some dream of an old life, and Clara entertained the notion that he'd be dreaming about her, but she knew it was probably some far off world and some indigenous population, inviting him to a feast for stopping the annihilation of their species.

"Mummy?"

She felt the tug on the sheets behind her and turned towards the small voice to see sleepy eyes peering up at her from the side of the bed, long hair hanging haphazardly over the girl's face. Clara smiled at Olive and shifted away from the Doctor, his audible moan of protest unexpectedly lifting her heart as she pulled their daughter up into the bed between them.

Olive's eyes closed as Clara pressed a kiss into her forehead and asked, "What's the matter, sweetheart?"

She didn't answer, only sighed and flattened herself against Clara, breathing slowing as she returned to slumber and Clara brushed the hair away from her face, finger touching the small nose that wiggled slightly in response. Watching the girl sleeping, she glanced from her up to her father and found herself wiping at tears because this was a moment she never thought she'd have.

They'd taken it incredibly well.

Enthusiastically, in fact.

"_The Doctor will be staying with us_," she'd told them as the three sat around the dining room table – the Doctor having gone outside to untie Jack to allow Clara the time to explain to the children.

"_For… how long_?" Olive had asked, lips pressing together, and she stole several glances towards the small window that looked out into the yard, as if waiting for him to burst in with the answer.

"_Will he be the Doctor, or will he be our father_?" Henry's words had been hesitant as he fidgeted with his hands on the table, fingers twisting around each other, boring holes into Clara with expectant eyes.

Clara had smiled then, telling them through held back tears, "_Forever, as your father_."

The two had stared at her a moment, faces wrought with questions they were too young to ask before they broke into tentative grins that dissolved into a shared giggle. And when the Doctor opened the door to ask her if it was alright to enter, the duo pushed out of their chairs to hug at his legs, each receiving a palm to their head in response as the Doctor beamed at her.

Now she looked to the man still sleeping beside her, only a few hours later she could tell by the clock on the nightstand, and she let the tears roll over her cheeks simply because he was there. She rested her head against the pillow and held Olive close to her, feeling the small hands that fumbled at the edge of her nightgown until they had a grip on the material. Clara closed her eyes, pushing away the anxiety she'd woke with, and she relaxed in the assurance that this was going to become normal.

This would become her life.

* * *

The Doctor could feel an odd jerking of the fingers of his right hand and he frowned in his sleep, shifting slightly in the warm bed trying to hold onto the dream he'd been invested in. Some sort of planet. Clara had been telling him that she'd always wanted to see… something awesome – something original. Something she had never seen before, and he'd taken her to a place where the grass grew in blue and the sky burned a brilliant orange, and the mountains in the distance were covered in a frost of silver. He smiled involuntarily, seeing her smiling face turn to look at him as she frolicked in the long blades that filled the field, hair whipping about her face before she reached out to him, beckoning him to experience it with her.

"_Come along, Doctor_!"

"Daddy," he heard.

It came as a pleaded whisper that snapped him straight out of the fantasy as he turned slightly with a muffled gasp at the worried face that peered up at him from beside the bed. Henry stood there, apprehensively looking up at him as though he might have made a mistake, but he remained, firmly, waiting before inching up.

"Daddy, can I sleep with you?" Henry asked, voice cracking.

The Doctor smiled automatically, the question giving his whole body a jolt of something he hadn't felt in a very long time as he reached down to give Henry an arm to pull himself up – _belonging_. The boy immediately climbed atop him, legs kicking away sheets and inadvertently pressing a rough heel into his crotch that made him swallow a gasp of pain before he smiled at the likeliness of it – _his_ son would be just as uncoordinated as him, limbs flailing about unnecessarily.

Shifting the covers over the small body that now laid over his chest, short hair tickling his chin, the Doctor pressed a hand to his back securely, feeling the sigh that warmed his collar. He brushed his other hand over the child's head and asked quietly, "Henry, are you alright?"

His only answer was another long sigh and the Doctor glanced down at the boy who had easily fallen back asleep, smiling at the pouted lips and the fist curled just beside them. Dropping his head to his left, he smiled lazily at the woman who was sleeping with their daughter flush against her. He couldn't imagine that just a day before, in her time, they'd stood outside in the midst of a heated argument, both feeling so empty and angry. The Doctor frowned, understanding that despite his affections, she might take some time to warm to the notion that he was earnest in his intent – and he intended to stay with her this time.

Not for a Wednesday, or for a week, but for a lifetime.

The thought smoothed the worry lines from his face and soothed the aches from his body – he could have Clara for a lifetime. They were the words that kept him afloat for so much longer than she'd ever realize; so much longer than even he realized, and he exhaled with relief. Lifting a hand, he slipped a knuckle along her cheek and watched her smirk in response, and then her eyes came open slowly, looking up at him holding Henry with an appreciation that melted his heart as he shifted closer to her, sandwiching Olive between their bodies.

Clara raised her head slightly when he dropped his arm to slide it under her and he curled it around her, rubbing lightly against her back while she checked on Olive and then glanced up at Henry. "Nightmares?" he questioned, eyebrows rising slightly with alarm.

But she only grinned, giving him a small shake of her head, eyelids drooping sleepily. "Not nightmares."

"They often come to sleep with you?" He asked, voice thick.

With a sad nod, she allowed, "Yeah, I think, sometimes, they get lonely."

The Doctor waited while she considered her words.

"They were together, first four years of their lives – most of it spent in the same bed," she smiled, "Dad and I didn't really have the space or the money really... We wanted to get them separate cribs, but… it never happened, and then they outgrew the crib and slept with me," she shook her head, "When I got the house, when they finally got their own rooms… I think sometimes they get lonely."

With a nod, he rubbed absently at Henry's back and watched Olive shift, turning over and clutching at his side with a mumbled sigh. "Maybe they just like slumber parties," he offered jokingly, watching her laugh to herself, picking Olive's long hair out of her face so the Doctor could see the pale cheeks and puckered lips that shifted with unspoken words.

Clara inched up in the bed, careful about their daughter as she pressed a kiss to the Doctor's lips, and he held her there, letting it deepen for a moment before she slipped back and grinned, cheeks flushed. "Might be hard," she started, dropping her gaze to the children, "To get intimate for a while."

With a laugh as he turned to the ceiling, he nodded, "I'm ok with that."

"Are you?" Clara teased.

He glanced back at her and looked to Henry, hand coming up to brush over the boy's head before settling it upon the boy's back, he nodded, "I'm ok with just this, Clara"

Clara looked away a moment, shy embarrassment as she uttered, "Cramped up in bed…"

"Our family," he interrupted. "Quite alright, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she agreed, voice cracking with the want to cry, "Yeah, it's quite alright just like this."

"Just like this," he repeated, eyes shifting from Henry to Olive and then back to her. Clara smiled and laid her head against his arm, reaching out to give Henry's back a small rub, then Olive's left arm as the girl inched up to use the Doctor's arm as a pillow as well.

"We're all going to be exhausted in the morning," Clara allowed.

With a nod, he sighed and kissed the top of Henry's head, then told her happily, "With good reason."

His head shifted, and his eyes closed and Clara called quietly, "Doctor?"

His smirk was evident before he turned and told her, "John," then nodded, "It's John now."

"John?" Clara asked, testing the name on her tongue with a smile.

"Yes, Clara?" He replied with a hint of a laugh on his voice.

She held her words a moment, feeling herself inhaling almost painfully as he watched her, waiting, and she finally allowed softly, on an exhale, "I love you." Clara smiled at the warmth just being able to finally those words to him brought her as she closed her eyes and relaxed knowing she would fall asleep soon and it would be morning before she knew it. Thursday – her first Thursday with him in her life – and the kids would have to go to school and they would have to go to work and it would start.

Their life would truly start.

"Clara?" He whispered, watching the grin that involuntarily tugged at her lips as she settled herself and he inched closer, saying her name again lightly, but she was already drifting to a dreamland filled with possibilities, and he sighed, telling her quietly, "I love you," before letting himself relax, ready to chase his own dream, one that wouldn't begin until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Henry gave a loud squeal that bolted Clara straight out of bed with a gasp of surprise and she fumbled with the sheets a moment, trying to untangle herself to rush to him before listening to the laughter that followed. He was fine, she assured herself, he was fine because she could hear the Doc… John – she could hear John's chuckles and Olive's teasing words over the fact that her brother was ticklish.

Pulling her legs over the side, Clara took a long breath and then walked out of the room, following the sounds of their voices, until she found herself looking into the kitchen with a smirk on her face and her arms crossed over her chest at the threesome there. Henry was sitting on the island that separated the kitchen space from the dining space, body still giving small heaves as the last of his laughter subsided and his hands were held out defensively towards his father.

Olive stood beside him and she hopped lightly, telling the man loudly, "Get him again!"

"No," Henry huffed, "No, no more!"

The Doc… John, she reminded again, had his hands clamped to Henry's knees and was giving him a devilish look as he declared quietly, "I think that's about enough play time."

Both children moaned in protest.

"Take it up with your mum, then," he informed them, raising his head to look in her direction and she watched the silent laugh that overtook his face, and she couldn't help notice how he glowed. He helped Henry to the ground and when he looked back up at her, she could see the contentment in his features – the satisfaction he had just being there with them. Striding towards him with a grin, Clara shifted around Olive and laughed when John wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Sleep well?" he asked in her ear as she rubbed his back, reveling in the feel of being so close to him and knowing it wasn't just for a moment – some stolen hug.

_Oh_, she thought, _if the children weren't here_.

"Well enough," she responded, delicately kissing his cheek before he pulled back and then glanced sideways at Henry, who was watching with quixotic look on his face. Chances were, John knew, the boy had never seen his mother be affectionate in this way with a man. He felt somewhat guilty, releasing her so she could see the pile of toast and pot of scrambled eggs that waited for them. "You?" She questioned, gesturing at him before reaching for plates.

John smiled and offered, "I didn't burn it this time."

"He burnt the toast the first time," Henry laughed.

"You," John pointed. Henry's lips pressed together, but he couldn't contain his amusement as the man lifted him off the floor into his arms and twirled with him towards the table, tickling his stomach again as he cried out.

Olive hugged Clara's leg and asked quietly, "Do you need help, mummy?"

With a small nod of her head, she handed the girl the plates and looked to where she could see John settling Henry into a chair, the two having a quiet discussion about something she couldn't hear and hoped had nothing to do with food fights this early. They both made a squeak of excitement Clara raised an eyebrow to before she told Olive, "Take these to the table, would you?"

Pleased, the girl rushed off and Clara picked up the plate of toast and the pot of eggs and she shook her head at the three now seated, waiting for her. "Breakfast," John told her with a nod. "Good, right?"

And she understood, he was asking if he'd done well. If this were something he should do; something he should be good at. Clara looked to Henry, who was scooping eggs out onto a piece of toast with his fork to make a sandwich, and Olive, who was nibbling quietly on her own toast – waiting for jam – and she laughed, nodding and telling him plainly, "Yeah, very good."

* * *

He offered to dress the children while she bathed and readied herself for work and Clara could hear them discussing wardrobe choices in Olive's room as she pinned her hair away from her face. Henry would prefer to wear his pajamas to school because, he explained, he felt happier in them whereas Olive wanted to slip into one of her skirts – something she hoped John would have to wrestle her out of one day. Letting a small laugh escape her, she imagined him standing in the girl's room staring down at the child wearing a tri-colored tutu with her arms crossed over her chest and a firm pout on her lips.

Oh, she hoped it would happen soon.

"Mum doesn't have to wear a school uniform," Henry grunted.

John chuckled, "Your mum isn't going to school."

Applying lipstick and smiling down as she dropped her makeup back into her drawer, she stepped out into the hallway and looked in on the man sitting cross-legged on the ground between an oversized bear and a baby doll, a full tea set laid out between him and the children. Stifling a laugh, she called, "Alright, time for school."

Henry and Olive leapt up to retrieve their backpacks while John slowly stood and made his way to Clara, lazy grin on his face as he raised his hand to cup her cheek and kiss her gently. Then he frowned, "They're supposed to assign me an auto at Unit, but…"

"I'll drop you off," then she glanced up at him, "It's not terribly out of the way, is it?"

He looked guiltily at her before asking, "Will you be in trouble at the shop? Should I call Jack?" He gestured out to the hall, "I could call Martha, don't think she lives far…"

Clara pressed a hand to his chest to stop his words and she shook her head, "John," she told him calmly, "Let's get them to school. Priority one."

"Priority one," he repeated with a laugh. "What's priority two?"

She turned and began walking towards the front door, twisting to tell him, "You to work."

Following, he scowled, "But that makes you priority three."

"And that's being a mum," she explained with an amused sigh.

He shook his head, "Don't think I like the arrangement."

"You'd like to be the mum then?" She questioned as they exited, eliciting a round of giggles from both children, who climbed up into their seats easily, buckling without instruction. But he was considering it with a perplexed stare out at the park across the street. "Doctor, you can't be the mum."

He pointed, "John."

"Daddy!" Henry shouted.

"What?" John lowered himself into the car to ask.

The boy and his sister shared a giggle.

Clara fell into the driver's seat and explained, "That's your name now."

With a smug grin, he repeated, "Daddy," and listened to Henry and Olive as they dissolved into quiet chatter about school mates and made up stories.

They gave him extra hugs before going in to school and Clara ignored the looks of other parents and the headmaster who stood with a teacher at the top of the steps. She imagined it was going to be difficult to explain to those who chose to ask. The father of her children disappeared for almost seven years, but now he was back and everything was just fine – or at least she hoped everything would be just fine. Climbing into the car again, she glanced at him, grinning like a fool beside her, hands tapping lazily against his knees.

Shifting to look back at the school, John met her stare, which she quickly shifted out onto the street and he asked quietly, "Are you alright?"

Clara laughed, looking back to him to admit, "It's just strange is all, dropping them off with you here."

He let out a huff of amusement. "I imagine a lot will be strange for a time. For all of us."

"Like _John_," she half whispered, fingers absently coming to her mouth, as though she'd said something wrong and when she turned, she could see his features were pained and she asked, "What? What is it?"

"Do you not like the name?" He asked quietly.

Sighing, she shook her head, "No, it's not that. I'm just used to _the Doctor_. It's what I've always called you – what I've always thought... when I thought about you."

He smiled, that eager and hopeful smile, as he leaned towards her and rapped his knuckles against her shoulder before pointing out to the street, "Priority one, get Clara Oswald used to my name."

"What?" She asked.

"Come on, let's get a move on – don't want to be late to work," he chastised, waiting until she'd turned onto the street to continue, "Priority one, get Clara Oswald to think of me as _John_, and not _the Doctor_."

She eyed him as he considered his words.

"Priority one, get Clara Oswald to use my name on a daily basis, multiple times, and sometimes inappropriately after the children have gone to bed," he ended with a devious grin.

Clara backhanded him with a laugh, "John!"

"_Priority one_," he repeated again, "Get Clara Oswald sorted."

"Sorted?" She asked, turning when he gestured, approaching a light. "What's that mean, get me sorted."

He simply smiled, pointing again and asking, "Are you writing this all down?"

"What?"

"Where I work?" He exclaimed.

With a shrug, she reminded, "I've been there."

"Then why am I telling you where to go?"

"Because you've distracted me," she teased. "How am I to be sorted?"

"Ravenclaw," he answered absently, then nodded to a building, "Just pull up front, I probably won't be working a full day – too much catching up that needs to be done; too many things to be sorted out," he smiled at her growing frustration. "I'll be round to pick the children up after school and get them home and we'll work out some sort of plan for dinner – won't burn the place down, I promise – and then I'll work on you."

She eyed him then, putting the car in park. "So, work, children, and then me?"

He leaned closer to her, "Oh no, that's the thing, Clara. To me, you're not a third priority, or a second priority, or even a first priority."

"Not many options left, Do… John," Clara closed her eyes and smiled when he chuckled.

Cupping her cheek in his palm, he pressed a soft kiss against her lips and then shifted back and told her quietly, "Clara Oswald, you – _everything about you_ – are my _only_ priority."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a half hour before she arrived at the shop, hand absently straightening her hair – which had come undone – and pushing at the skirt that felt absolutely too tight against her thighs. Her blouse was still un-tucked and she moved through the front door with a curse, fingers attempting to rectify the situation before Marge caught sight of her, but it was too late, the woman was seated behind the register with one eyebrow raised high and her lips spreading into an awkward grin.

"I won't mention what this looks like," her boss offered with a nod. "Unless it actually is what it actually looks like, in which case, I might have to demand the details."

There was a devious chuckle behind the words and Clara couldn't help the lopsided grin that attacked her face as she strode past the other woman to dump her purse and finish fixing her blouse with a few quick looks up before hissing, "Stop staring at me like that."

With another nod, she supplied, "Like I'm lookin' at a woman who's just had a scandalous morning shag in the back of her car?" Then she feigned shock and gasped, "Oh dear, Clara, _the twin's boosters _– You'd have to make do with a reclined front seat!"

Head coming up quickly, Clara hesitated far too long and Marge let out a hoot.

"I hope after you dropped off the children," she joked, then she straightened, "Oh, Clara, with _who_?"

Sitting with a look around the shop, Clara bit her lip and then admitted, "John, the old friend…" she trailed before whispering, "Henry and Olive's father." With a shrug, she continued, small smile tugging at her lips, "It wasn't something we planned to do… it just sort of happened. Thought it would be a heavy snog and it just escalated and before we knew it…" she glanced up.

The amusement had faded from Marge's features, replaced with a concern that pained Clara as she checked her blouse and tugged at the hem of her skirt nervously. "Clara," the woman stated plainly, and she understood the questions there. Was this a good idea? Should she get involved with him again, after he'd left her before? Was this good for the children? Would this destroy their lives?

Waving a hand at her, Clara assured, "Marge, it's fine – it's good – I told you, he hadn't…"

"Meant to leave, I remember," Marge spat. "And you never quite explained that, how a man doesn't mean to leave the woman he loves – how he leaves his children – and how everything's just sunshine and rainbows when he returns, as if nothing'd happened." Marge turned away from her with a shake of her head in disappointment, a gesture that hurt more than any words could. "Clara, at least tell me you're takin' care of yourself."

"Of course," she barked angrily, shifting away because it was a lie.

There hadn't exactly been time for formalities; there'd barely been time for the post-coital cuddle before he reminded them both with a laugh that they were now terribly late for work. Clara swallowed roughly and fumbled through the mail from the night before under her register, listening to the noises of discontent emerging from the woman beside her. Glancing up at her, she could see her still shaking her head and she felt somewhat guilty for letting herself be irresponsible.

Is that what the Doctor did to her?

_John_.

Is that what John did to her? Made her the type of woman who wouldn't think through her choices and simply act on impulse? She smiled, remembering the way he'd uttered her name against her temple; the way she'd bitten his earlobe and whispered his, earning her a groan of appreciation before he'd slipped his palm over her thigh and then between them, urging her with a gentle but steady circular rub to meet his climax with her own. Clara swallowed dryly, blinking away the fresh memory of their gasping breaths that dissolved into knowing laughter.

"I'm sorry, I have to…" she gestured towards the back room and Marge humphed as Clara moved through a door and found the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror after a long breath.

Her lipstick was somewhat smeared and she did her best to fix it, and then ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make herself presentable. Clara laughed at herself because there was an odd glow to her skin she hadn't had in a long time. A satisfaction and a hope and a happiness in her eyes to replace the exhaustion that generally marred them. Perhaps a little impulsiveness would do her good, she considered, looking at the permanent smirk that had settled upon her lips.

* * *

John pushed through the back doors of Unit and made his way through a warehouse of odd exhibits, waving to employees on a twirl before bursting into the offices and finding the elevators to the third sub level, a whistle easy on his lips broken only by the occasional huff of laughter brought on by a flash of memory. The elevator doors opened and he found Jack there, eyeing the personnel around him wearily before perking up at the sight of him and offering bluntly,

"Next time, you might wanna try another alley and not one so close to the office."

"What?" John asked brightly.

Falling into step with him as they neared an open area comprised of several desks littered with computers, books, schematics, and a chess board, Jack informed him, "Was a little concerned about you being late, since you've been impeccably on time – _oddly enough_ – for the past week I've been here to help you _settle in_ and when I went to check with security, I found a little bit of a peep show going on. Had to throw six security officers and two employees out of the room until you and Clara… uh… _finished_."

Eyeing a man who passed, hidden smirk betraying his face, John winced and asked, "Tell me you've destroyed the recordings."

Jack handed him a small CD and nodded, "You, _and Clara_, owe me for this."

"We'll be…" John trailed, hand coming up to rub over his face, "More discrete in the future."

With a nod, Jack gestured out at the equipment, "Guess I'll be heading back to Torchwood as I think they've got you all properly set up now, Doc."

"Would seem so," John replied after looking over his desks. Waiting in awkward silence, Jack pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and then pulled them out, unspoken question threatening to break past his lips. John finally glanced up and told him plainly, "Well, spit it out."

Seeming relieved at the invitation, Jack asked quickly, "So you and Clara, I mean, you and women – you're capable, I mean, you do the thing with the…" he thrust his hips slightly as John laughed.

"Captain, I would have presumed you more eloquent on the subject than myself."

"Well, I am," he teased. Sitting, he pointed, "It's just you, I don't think I've ever thought of you in that way before – I mean, I have, but…"

Lowering his brow, John asked, "Did you watch?"

His head tilted back and he admitted, "I might have, to rescue the evidence and to know when it was safe for the boys to go back to their jobs."

"Then you know I'm capable," he teased with a grin and a slow rise of one eyebrow, watching as Jack blushed slightly before both men looked away from one another.

As he rummaged over the paperwork, the dozens of projects they'd handed him in various stages of completion, Jack watched him, listening to the humming and seeing the way he danced about the desks, clicking at computers and scoffing at theories written on the ledgers of documents. "You really love her, don't you."

Turning swiftly, John's eyebrows rose high as he contemplated the statement before smiling and moving towards him, nod ready as he explained, "You've travelled, Jack, among the stars and the time and the people – not so much as I have, but you've had your fair share of the experience."

"Yeah," Jack answered simply.

"I've had a very long time to explore it all, to submerge myself in the fabric of time and cull from it almost a dozen lifetimes worth of memories – of angered encounters that ended in death; of wars and genocide and famine; of leaders who chose, in spite of all the options available to them, to do wrong… wrongs I've had to either accept as fixed points in time, or attempt to rectify, saving as many and as much as I could at the risk of so much." He smiled at the man, "And I've been there to see the glory of peoples who see the brightness in every living entity and sacrifice things and memories and even themselves to keep that peace in their little pocket of the universe." John sighed, "Those lights are too often snuffed out by the ill will of others, by the darkness that ravages space and threatens to overcome all of the goodness left out there."

John paused, a small chuckle on his lips before he told him, "There's a darkness in all men of all species in every corner of the universe and I can assure you somewhere in my heart there's an unfathomable void that can be palpably terrifying, but Clara? Clara is the brilliance of a thousand suns burning that darkness into oblivion with a simple smile. She's a raging torch of all that is good and right and somehow – _somehow_ – she's taken my darkness and she's created two magical creatures that love unconditionally and look at the world around them… they _look at me_ with an admiration unmatched by anything else in the universe."

Staring at the man in front of him, John nodded quickly, "What I feel for her can't be described in any language the Tardis can translate, but I suppose 'love' will do. And her children, _our children_," he spoke in Gallifreyan, lyrically and pointedly until his eyes spilled over, looking to Jack with a laugh, "And you didn't understand a word of that."

Jack stood, clapping a hand on the other man's shoulders and he nodded, "I understood every bit of it, Doctor."


	4. Chapter 4

The walk to the school wasn't as bad as John thought it would be, but he did arrive after the final bell and was greeted by a mass of screaming children on the playground and a headmaster who seemed unimpressed with his credentials, insisting on calling Clara, despite John's assertions that it wasn't necessary. The man stared him in the eye a moment and then gestured out at the children, most of whom had stopped playing to see what was going on, as he told him pointedly, "Perhaps we should ask Mrs. Oswald what is and isn't necessary for the welfare of her children, sir."

John waved to Henry and Olive, who were clinging to the fence, looks of apprehension plaguing their small faces as they raised their hands to wave back, instantly the attention of the other school children. He could see one boy speaking to Henry, face crumpled in a way that made John think maybe his words weren't the kindest, and Henry closed his eyes a moment, taking a long breath before Olive snatched him away, moving closer to the entrance of the playground.

The other children followed and John waited as he half-listened to the conversation the man was having over the phone, sounding a bit flustered, but reminding Clara that she needed to have noted with the school who was and wasn't allowed to take the children. After a moment, he pressed a button on the phone and glanced at John, asking quietly, "John Smith, you say?"

"Yes," he smiled back.

Looking to the playground, the man nodded. "Their father."

"Yes," John repeated, lips spreading further before asking, "Is it alright if I take them now? We've got homework to complete, chores to look after, and a dinner to plan before their mum gets home."

Nodding slowly, the Headmaster shifted out of his way.

"And," John said, turning, "You might want to take some of these boys aside, seeing as the welfare of the children is your responsibility as Headmaster of the school, and explain to them that negative treatment of their fellow students is frowned upon." His lips dropped along with his brow before he twisted on his feet back to the children who were now being taunted near the gate.

"Shut it!" Henry was shouting when he arrived, glancing at a toe-headed boy nearly twice his size.

"Henry, is everything alright?" John asked him, pushing open the gate to land a hand on his head, rubbing over the short hair there and glaring at the boys who now stepped back to stare at his full height with a twinge of fear.

Olive grabbed John's hand and pulled him back out of the playground area and John led Henry out, fingers light against his neck, feeling the heat of anger there. They grabbed their backpacks and made their way onto the street. Henry turned once when there was a round of laughter, but Olive barked, "Don't listen to them!"

"Are we walking home?" Henry growled in frustration.

"Walk might do you some good," John replied quietly.

Olive smiled in appreciation, but Henry crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, "I'm tired."

John shifted down, twisting and catching Henry under each arm to lift him up against him. "Well then," he told the boy who remained defiant, "I'll carry you for a bit, how's about that?" He poked one finger against his chest and then tapped his chin, gaining a small hint of a grin, "How's about we play a game?"

"What sort of game?" Henry asked, voice relaxing along with his expression as he waited.

"Let's see how many impossible things we can find," John offered.

Olive raised a hand and looped two of her fingers into one of the belt rungs of John's pants and she asked curiously, "How are things impossible?"

John looked about and then he gestured up, "A cloud that looks like a fish."

Henry's arm shot out and he pointed, "A tree that grows like an umbrella."

They looked to Olive, who was considering the space around her before she laughed, "A fence with a smile," and, to Henry's confusion, she pointed at a wooden fence on which one plank the patterns in the wood made an odd face.

John listened to them come up with impossible thing after impossible thing until they were both walking on either side of him, one hand firmly within each of his, simply looking, an occasional smile lighting up their faces as they spotted something new and pondered it. He sighed and gave their hands a squeeze, getting small grins in return, but he could see Henry was still troubled and it pained him as they moved up the driveway and he removed the key Clara had given him from his pocket, pushing open the door to allow them entrance.

Henry ran a hand over his head and pouted sadly as they walked through the doorway, gaining a look of curiosity from John as he locked the door behind them. He called to him, watching both children turn and glance up at him before he knelt and asked, "Henry, what's the matter?"

"The boys at school," he started with a sigh, "They make fun of my hair."

"I make fun of your hair," Olive muttered, eyes finding the ground guiltily.

"Is that what they were doing today, Henry? When I arrived?"

He shrugged, then nodded.

John could see the hurt in his son's eyes, a look he knew all too well, and he clapped his hands together, grin wide on his face as he exclaimed, "Well then, I guess we'll just have to show them that it's cool, because Henry, _it is cool_."

He stood and swiftly moved down the hall to Clara's bedroom and he could hear both children clamoring to catch up with his long strides. John rummaged through the bathroom cabinets before he found the motorized razor blade and showed it to the two now staring at him with wide eyes.

Henry asked quickly, "What are you going to do?"

"Mummy would not approve of this," Olive told him with a quick shake of her head.

But a few moments later John was staring at his own shorn head in the mirror, hand moving over it to feel the shortness of the thick strands before looking to Henry, who laughed and told him, "You look silly!"

"Just as silly as you!" He pointed, then looked to Olive, "How about it, Olive – show of solidarity with your brother."

The girl's eyes went even wider with surprise at the suggestion and her mouth fell open slightly, the perfect miniature of her mother's shocked expression and it made him laugh as she ran from the room, leaving Henry and John baffled. And then she returned, handing a doll to him with a nod. "I can't shave my head, I'm a girl, and it would be ridiculous. But you can shave this doll for _slodirarity_ with Henry."

Henry glanced at the doll and his brow came down, telling her on a whisper, "Olive, that's Betty, she's your favorite."

With a nod, she allowed, "I know she's my favorite."

"It hurts the most," John frowned, the pang of understanding striking him as he explained to Henry, "It hurts the most so it means the most."

He held the doll in his hands as the two children looked at one another, some unspoken exchange in the glances, nods, and smiles they gave each other, and it struck him for the hundredth time that week – his twins. His two perfect little children who were now chuckling together as John took the clippers to the doll's hair and handed it to Henry, who touched its head with his finger before grinning and passing it to Olive.

Olive grinned up at John and waved Betty at him before skipping to her room.

Picking Henry up into his arms, he was surprised by the tight hug the boy gave him and the hard press of his lips against his cheek. Shifting him back, John could see the glimmer of tears in his boy's dark eyes as Henry smiled at him and then laughed.

"Henry?" John questioned, shifting him to sit more comfortably in his arms.

Dropping his head down against his collar, Henry sighed and told him honestly, "I love having a daddy."

"Well," John replied, throat closing against too many emotions before finishing, "I love having a Henry."

* * *

Clara arrived home not long after five and she could hear the television running and then there was a chorus of shouts and laughter, as if some joke had just been finished, and the trio had all enjoyed it. She smiled, pushing open the door and dropping her purse and keys on the small table just inside. Turning, she could see John sitting on the floor, hands clasped behind his head, long legs lain out before him and on either side of him, Henry and Olive sat, leaning into his sides.

"What did you do to your hair?" She gasped, watching them all turn.

He gave her a small grin before glancing down at Henry, whose worried expression waited.

Taking the step down into the living room, she raised her arms to the boy who stood and climbed up into her lap as she sat next to John and she looked between the boy and his father, smiling and telling him, "Peas in a pod, you two."

"He said it was cool," Henry beamed as Clara brushed her hand over his short hair and kissed his forehead.

"And if there's one thing your father knows best – it's what's _cool_," Clara told him, eyes widening as Henry gave her a tight lipped smile. "Have you started dinner?" She asked, passing an apprehensive glance at the unattended kitchen.

With a nod, John looked to Olive and offered, "I was told to wait until you'd arrived. It would seem the children are as anxious about me using the stove again as you are," he finished, glancing up at her with a grin to mirror their son's. "But," he pointed, shifting to stand, "You're home now, and we can get started while you relax."

Henry bounced off her lap and went rushing into the kitchen with Olive, both dragging stools around the island and into the kitchen and Clara could hear pans banging against each other as John pulled her up and into him, holding her tightly. He sighed into her hair and she shifted back, giving him a look of curiosity that he laughed in response to before shaking his head and bending to kiss her and Clara inhaled at the intensity of it, the longing behind it.

"Mummy," Olive shouted.

"Daddy!" Henry barked.

Slipping back away from him, Clara turned to see the children sitting on stools, hands covering their eyes as they giggled and shook their heads. And she dropped her head to his chest, laughing to herself before looking back up at the tranquility in his eyes. Giving him a naughty smirk, she rubbed his back lightly and offered, "If we can get them fed, showered, and in bed by eight, I wouldn't mind giving this morning's activities another go... possibly at a slower pace, and without a gear shift pressing uncomfortably into my leg."

He raised one eyebrow and then the other rose to meet it and he kissed her head, telling her quietly, "I believe that is a challenge I will not only accept, but accomplish. Possibly with time to spare."

Clara laughed as he moved away from her, going to the children who were waiting in the kitchen with more giggles as he tickled their stomachs and then turned his attention to the contents of the refrigerator. She listened to them discussing their options as she made her way down the hall, stopping when she heard Olive ask quietly, "Are you and mummy going to be kissing a lot?"

She heard the chuckle John released as he supplied, "Yes, possibly… does that bother you?"

There was a pause and Clara waited, breath held because she knew it might bother them and she hadn't thought that maybe they should work their way into this slowly. She hadn't considered that him moving in straight away and being there every moment might disrupt their lives in a negative way. But then Olive gave a humph of amusement before telling him, "No, it makes mummy happy."

"I think it's kind of gross," Henry offered and then he laughed and she knew it was because John had given his tummy a squeeze. She finished her walk to her bedroom, satisfied grin on her face, and as she showered, she considered the moment – Clara was able to calmly shower because the children were in the capable, albeit clumsy, hands of their father. The notion carried through dinner and an hour's worth of playtime in the yard and through their baths, taken without question for the first time in as long as she could remember, and when they'd settled them into their beds, Clara stood with John at their door a moment.

_Their door_, she thought with a smile, _their bedroom_.

With a sigh of contentment, Clara took his hand to lead him inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Dave Oswald pulled into the driveway feeling a twinge of apprehension in his gut. He was invited over for dinner often, but Clara had told him there were things that needed to be discussed and her tone was off. It swayed between what she'd sounded like when she'd gotten the house and what she'd sounded like when she'd told him she was pregnant. He could still remember that day, when he'd found her curled up on his couch after work, sickly look on her sleeping face.

Walking up the driveway he thought back to that moment, when he'd knelt beside her, thinking maybe she'd caught the flu or maybe she'd finally realized everything she'd been doing for the past month and a half had been ridiculous and was feeling guilty. He'd brushed a hand over her head, feeling for a temperature and her eyes had flashed open, staring up at him with so much sorrow he'd almost immediately been brought to tears as she lifted herself up and flung her arms around him with a sob.

"_Daddy, I'm pregnant and I don't know what to do_."

They'd been words for her mother. Words he hadn't known how to respond to and he'd simply held her as she'd cried, trying his best to control his own tears because she'd never allowed herself to be vulnerable, or show weakness. Just like her mum, Clara always had to be brave, but in that moment, she needed him to be. So he asked her nothing and allowed her to explain. The father was a man she'd loved for a short time, but he was long gone, probably wouldn't return, and she wouldn't kill it, but she was afraid she'd make a terrible mother – the things she'd done…

"Hey dad!" She shouted from the doorway, laughing when the two children rushed past her to clamp onto his legs. "Henry, Olive, come on!" She ordered, nervous smile never leaving her face.

The two stood at his sides and Olive grumbled, "Mummy, my tummy hurts."

She bent to lift the girl, feeling her head and frowning because she didn't have a fever and she sighed as Olive laid her head down against her shoulder before looking back up at her father. Dave sighed, taking in the joy that was always so ready in her features when she saw him – he missed having her at home; he missed having the twins with him. Looking down at Henry, he touched the short hair, not questioning the cut before glancing up at Clara to kiss her cheek and envelop her in a tight hug.

"How are you, Clara?" He asked quietly into her ear.

"I'm great, dad," she responded in a whisper and he calmed considerably because she'd been honest and her relief relieved him as he shifted back and ushered Henry into the house behind her and Olive.

And then he saw the man. He was seated on the couch, knuckles pressed into his right temple and when Dave cleared his throat, he stood quickly, anxiously, lips pressed tightly together, throat bobbing in a hard swallow as he nodded and said quickly, "Hello, Dave."

"Clara," Dave said simply, turning to look at the quick swipe of terror that rushed over her face as Olive held her stomach and pouted. "You said he'd gone," he told her calmly.

Setting Olive down, she bent and waved Henry over, telling them both, "Why don't you two go on outside and play for a bit before supper?"

"By ourselves," Henry asked, before reminded her, "It's almost dark out."

With a nod, she moved with them, flicking on a light and opening the door, "Just make lots of noise so mummy can hear you."

They walked slowly outside and Clara closed the door, returning to the two men in her living room and Dave barked, "Clara, you said he'd left – gone for good."

"I left," John nodded, "But it was never meant to be for good."

"The ship," Clara clarified, "She sort of bounced him forward a bit too far, but he came back and yeah, I said he'd left, but..." John turned to her and she sighed, "Yeah, I told him about the Tardis. He's my dad; I sort of tell him everything."

There was a small grin on John's lips as he looked out towards the kitchen and Dave took a step forward, shouting, "Don't you look at them; don't you dare! Y'can't waltz back in here and play father to those children."

"Dad," Clara shouted, "He wouldn't be playing – he is their father. And he's come back, but this time… this time it's to stay. For them; for us, the three of us."

Dave pressed a fist into his palm as he moved around John, falling into the couch to stare at the ground, thinking about how upset Clara had been all that time ago. How many nights he'd listened to her cry herself to sleep, oft times with one of the children in her arms on the recliner in his living room. He could see her approaching slowly, kneeling in front of him and placing her hands delicately at his knees and when he met her eyes, they were bloodshot – ready with tears – as she waited for him to acknowledge her.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she admitted, knowing she'd never explicitly told her father that the 'Doctor' she spoke of on occasion was the father of her children.

He waved a hand and spat, "You never had to – the way you went on about him; that look on your face every time you mentioned him," he glanced up at John a moment, "Every time, even after he'd been gone for years, just before the sadness, there was this look…" he inhaled sharply, "I recognized that look Clara; same one your mum saved for me when I got home from work."

John turned and frowned, "If I could change it all, Dave, I would – I would never intentionally hurt your daughter, or Henry and Olive." He took a step closer and stopped when the man glared up at him.

"When does one intend to do harm, Doctor?" Dave asked angrily. He looked to Clara, to the half-smile she was giving him, "Has she told you about when you were gone? Has she told you about what happened? About how much you hurt her?"

"Dad, that's not fair," Clara complained.

"No," John shook his head, "It's absolutely fair that I know – that I know as a reminder to myself of why I chose to stay," he looked to Clara, who stood, "Clara, he's right."

"How long's he been back, living here?" Dave asked bluntly.

Clara swallowed and admitted, "Little over three weeks now."

The man rubbed at his forehead and pushed off the couch, shifting Clara out of his way to look John in the eye, grimacing at the genuine hurt there. "You can't walk away, intentional or not, and then come back and expect everything to just fall in line – _that's_ not fair. Not to her or to them."

Bottom lip quivering slightly, John responded quickly, "And I will spend the rest of this lifetime making up to them for the loss they've felt because of me." He looked to Clara slowly, "Could we, perhaps, have a moment alone?"

Clara's head tilted slightly as she looked from one man to the other. She knew her father wasn't one for physical violence, but the look on his face now suggested he might be up for trying a new experience, and she hesitated before her father nodded, defenses lowering as he met her eyes and saw the fear there. "I'll be right outside," she told them both, eyeing them one last time before understanding that whatever had to happen would have to happen whether she liked it or not.

Dave and John watched her go, listening for the door to shut before Dave told him, "You destroyed her life when you left – she wasn't my Clara anymore, acting rash and impulsively and the things being said about her… no father should have to hear that about his daughter." He nodded and continued, "And while she was pregnant, she was terrified her baby would be… wrong – she never told me outright you were the father and she never explained the fear, but I knew. You were some alien from outer space and she thought her baby would be disfigured. She barely sought any medical assistance because of it. Do you understand how dangerous that was for her?" Waiting for John to nod, Dave clenched his jaw, "And then those beautiful babies were born and she had to be strong and brave for them when all she wanted to do was collapse because you'd left her. Have you even the capability of understanding what that felt like? Watching her suffer and knowing there wasn't a bloody thing I could do for her except be there – be there _because you weren't_?"

John watched as the man waited, knew he wanted an excuse he didn't have, and so he allowed his own tears to fall as he watched the pain in her father's face. "When I came back, she asked me to leave," he finally managed. "She told me I was no good for her family – for the children – and she begged me to go, even after she admitted they were my children and I tried…" With a shake of his head, he continued, "It's never good for me to travel alone, so I take companions for a time and they are the best of this universe – and I always imagine that the experiences I give them through our travels are my gift to them, but Clara," his small smile was involuntary as he explained, "Clara was a gift to me, and the very thing that had given her to me had taken her away. I don't intend to lose her again."

Head dropping back to look up at him, Dave sighed, "You love her, Doctor, I get that, but it's now – right now, what about ten years from now? You're a thousand year old alien _for fuck's sake_!"

Pointing, he corrected, "Not anymore."

"What?" Dave spat, "You can't just stop being an alien."

"Fortunately, I can – I've got a device aboard my ship. Won't go into the details, but Dave, I gave up being a Time Lord, being an alien, being a traveler. I gave that up for my family and I know the significance doesn't register for you, but trust me when I say, it's a sacrifice and one worth making for your daughter."

Looking away, Dave asked quietly, "What have you given up, really?"

With a sad laugh, John replied, "Ordinarily, I could show you with a good head butt, or a more subtle mind probe, but you'll have to settle for the stories you'll hear because I intend to share them with my children. They'll know my home and my people – the good and the bad – and they'll say a thing or two, express a longing for a planet you've never heard of and one day you'll understand the complexity of my life and just what it is I've happily given up." He watched Dave as he contemplated him before nodding, "Because nothing I could gain by leaving is worth a damn if they're not with me and Clara made it clear, and I happen to agree, traveling would put them in danger and I wouldn't do that. Not them."

Frowning, Dave turned away and then pressed his hands into his waist, telling him reluctantly, because he knew his daughter would disown him if he didn't at least try, "Don't expect me to call you son straight off, or accept any of this…"

"I don't," John interrupted. "Just as I didn't have any expectations of Clara – I simply ask that you give me a chance to prove that this is the right thing for all of us."

The kitchen door opened widely and Henry came bounding into the living room, cheeks red from playing and he leaned against John, glancing up and admitting on a sigh, "Mummy threw up and Olive says it's probably because the baby is hungry. Is dinner ready yet?"


	6. Chapter 6

They stared at Henry a moment, both wearing fake grins to cover for the words they'd just shared before realization dawned and John rushed over the hallway and through the kitchen, moving out the back door to find Clara seated on the children's play bench, one hand on her stomach, the other over her mouth. Olive was standing next to her, hands fidgeting with the blue and purple skirt she wore, looking up at John with a shrug as he smiled. Behind him, he could hear Dave approaching slower, carrying Henry, and John squatted in front of Clara, hands landing on her knees.

"Sorry," she muttered, hand coming away and then landing against her cheek, "Nerves."

Olive's face crumpled in confusion.

"Clara?" John called, waiting for her to look to him with watery eyes.

She smiled, "I'm fine, just nerves. Knowing you two could be fighting in there."

"Grandpa and daddy weren't fighting," Henry offered sadly.

"We weren't," Dave agreed, "We were coming to an understanding of sorts."

"Always what's in the best interest of Clara and the children," John told her quietly.

Shifting to look at him, she inhaled and smiled, standing to nod towards the kitchen door, "We should finish up dinner; I'm sure everyone's famished."

"Clara," John said softly, hand coming up to stroke her neck with a grin, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she replied with a nod. "I'm fine." She slipped out of his touch and took Olive by the shoulders, ushering her inside and they followed, men exchanging a glance of concern.

Dinner was eaten silently; even Henry and Olive pushed bits of vegetables into their mouths obediently while alternately watching their parents and their grandfather. After they'd finished, Clara gestured at the duo and supplied quietly, "Time to have a bath."

"It's early," Henry whined.

"I'm not dirty," Olive complained.

Dave stood, hand on Clara's shoulder, watching her avoid his stare a moment before she met his eyes and he chuckled to himself, telling her, "I'll take them, we'll make a mess with bubbles," he turned to see the excitement creeping onto their faces. "And play pirates," he added with a horrible pirate voice that made them laugh and jump out of their chairs.

Clara pressed her hands to the table and then began picking up plates as John watched her. His lips spread into a small smile, watching the flow of her long skirt and the way her hair twirled over her shoulders in the same way with every movement. When she came back to retrieve his plate, he stopped her hands and pulled her into his lap, pressing a kiss to her lips gently as his arms wrapped around her, holding her in place.

"Clara," he said plainly.

"You keep saying my name like that," she scoffed.

He nodded, "And you keep avoiding the unspoken question."

"What's the question?" Clara prompted.

"Are you alright?"

She smiled, "You asked me that already and I told you I was fine."

"Olive said something funny," he prompted.

Her lips tugged upward and she nodded, "Olive says a lot of funny things."

"No," he shook his head, "No, generally it's Henry who says funny things; Olive says poignant things."

She nodded slowly.

"Are you pregnant?" John asked.

Shrugging, Clara looked away and then back and offered, "I don't know. I could be, I suppose."

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped and stared when she clapped her hands over his mouth, mumbling a muffled, "Why can't I be excited?"

Dropping her hands to his shoulders and shifting towards him, she explained solemnly, "Because if I am, and that's a fairly big if, it's _very_ early on. There are statistics on this sort of thing, most women miscarry before they even know and I don't want to get overly excited over something Olive said when, in fact, it could be nothing in a week's time."

He frowned at the pessimism, but nodded in understanding, holding her as she dropped a simple kiss to his lips, smiling into them when his hand rounded her midsection and settled itself there, thumb stroking her belly through the material of her skirt. Clara pulled back and glanced down, then gave him a curious look and he answered humbly, "I'm encouraging for more than nothing in a week's time."

She laughed easily, calmly, and shifted again, chest almost flush with his as she kissed him more firmly now, tongue breaking past his lips to swirl around his as he inhaled and then backed away, watching her shrug. Cheeks going red, she relaxed against him, resting her head against his neck as his thumb continued its gentle swipes, giving her a small tingle in her gut.

"I'd like to take Henry and Olive to UNIT," he told her silently.

Clara nudged his neck, asking plainly, "What for?"

He frowned then, hand lying flat against her as he sighed, "Olive, she feels you in a way she shouldn't."

"Well," Clara chuckled, "Her father is a Time Lord." And then her mouth formed an O of understanding and she straightened, "You mean you want them tested at UNIT."

Brow furrowing, he nodded, "I don't want them _tested_, not in the sort of way you're thinking, but I need to know to what extent their biology leans Gallifreyan – one day their lives could depend on that knowledge."

"Like knowing a food allergy," Clara surmised.

He brightened, responding, "Exactly like knowing a food allergy."

"Do you have allergies?" Clara asked.

Turning away, he pondered the question as she laughed. "I don't know."

"Well, none so far," she told his bewildered expression. "Wait," she suddenly spat, "What do you mean it's like knowing a food allergy? A food allergy could kill someone; are you saying I could have killed them…"

"Clara, don't…" he interrupted, "Let's not dwell too much on it – I just want to have blood work run through a more sophisticated set of studies than your normal pediatrician or doctor might perform. That's all, just to be safe."

She still seemed a bit taken aback by the knowledge, skin going somewhat pale the more she thought on it and he touched her cheek, bringing her face back to look at him. "I could have…" she started.

"But, you didn't, and that's good," he told her firmly, "They're six years old, if they were in any true danger, you probably would have discovered it by now."

The words didn't seem to appease her as she reminded, "I came out of your time stream… after being spread like leaves to the wind. Do you think…"

With a laugh, he shook his head, "You're fine, Clara; they're fine."

"Then why?"

"Peace of mind," he assured.

She heard a ruckus from the bathroom in the hall, and a pair of squeals and her hand met his at her abdomen, sighing, "There'd be three of them."

"Three wonderful children," John whispered, kissing her forehead.

She was half asleep by the time her father re-entered the kitchen, hands coming together as he paused to watch his daughter lazily grinning up at him from her comfortable spot against the Doctor's chest. Dave couldn't remember the last time she'd seemed so secure and he stepped into the room to announce, "They're both in their rooms, told them they could play quietly for a bit before you came in to say goodnight."

"Thanks, dad," Clara offered as the man moved to sit across from them, hands laid out on the table.

He met the John's eyes and asked him quietly, "Can you promise you'd never leave again?"

"Sort of the agreement; won't leave unless she tells me to," John replied with a smile, glancing down at Clara, who'd remained despite her father's presence. "Dave, I understand the apprehension, but I can assure you, this house is my home now and they're my adventures – I need nothing else."

With a nod to Clara, whose eyes had closed, he smiled timidly, "New adventure then."

John felt his eyes burn with happy tears as he nodded and told him honestly, "Clara doesn't want to get ahead of ourselves."

"Ah," Dave raised his head to respond, "Superstitious."

"Yes," John supplied, then admitted, glancing down at their hands still clasped in her lap, "But I believe it is and I believe it will be magnificent."

"You're a strange fellow, Doctor."

"Please, Dave, it's John now."

With a nod, Dave accepted the name, watching the man across from him trailing adoring eyes over his daughters features as her breathing slowed, her mind already lost to a dream. "John," Dave started quietly, "Guess I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"As any good father would," John laughed.

He pointed at him, "And I expect you will."

Passing a glance towards the hall, John felt an odd swell of pride thinking about his children and how right Dave was – he would stop the world for them and he understood the man across from him wanted nothing less for his own daughter. "I would die for them," he told him honestly, free hand coming up to push hair behind Clara's ear before his fingers fell to a comfortable spot on her thigh.

"Let's not get drastic," Dave teased, nodding to Clara, "Just take care of her. She's stubborn and strong-willed, and a bit of a wise arse at times and her kids – your kids, John… they take after her in the best and worst ways." There was a laugh on his breath as he stood.

"I'd like to properly marry her," John admitted, then nodded to him, "If that's alright by you."

"If that's alright by _her_," Dave responded with a smile, "And _them_," he gestured to the hall.

Nodding slowly, John watched the man round the table and shift down to give Clara a quick kiss on the cheek and then, unexpectedly, he dropped one against John's forehead, hand clamping on his shoulder securely. He sighed and smiled at the two of them before moving back to the space between the dining and living room and gave John a half salute before going out the front door and John sighed, slipping his arms under Clara's legs and securely around her back.

His priorities, he knew, started with getting her into bed and reading his children a bedtime story. A new baby, he considered as he leaned against the bottom bunk of Henry's bed, Olive lying against his chest similar to how her mother had just been, to begin reading.

Nothing could make him happier.


	7. Chapter 7

They arranged to meet Martha on her first free Saturday morning, three weeks later. Partially because John knew the number of personnel at UNIT would be incredibly low – essential persons only – and partially because he understood weekends were for fun and maybe if Henry and Olive thought it was for fun, they wouldn't be as frightened. Clara had laughed at the notion, supplying that children know when they're on their way to see the doctor and nothing you did diminished that fear.

Sure enough, the two were staring up at the building with clear apprehension on their faces, each clutching one of Clara's hands within both of theirs, as though begging her to go anywhere else. Bending in front of them, John tugged on Olive's jacket and he gave Henry's stomach a nuzzle with his knuckle before admitting, "It's a scary place, I know."

"And this is where you work?" Henry asked, eyes finding his as Olive gave a sniffle.

"I don't feel good," the girl offered quietly and when he glanced up at Clara, she gave him an awkward pout because, John knew, _she_ was feeling sick to her stomach just thinking about what they might do to either of the children if the results of these tests screamed '_alien'_ and fell into the wrong hands.

Standing, John reached a hand out to Henry, but the boy only clutched Clara's hand tighter and he frowned, dropping his fist at his side, feeling rejected as he strode forward. "Y'know, it's actually a nice place to work," he told them as they walked through the front doors. "Jack comes by and tells me stories, ridiculous stories about –" he looked to Clara, who glared, "—things that are inappropriate and not to be shared with you."

Henry managed a giggle.

Olive remained stoic.

"But I get loads done and get to play with cool gadgets…"

"What sort of gadgets?" Henry asked, perking up slightly.

Turning with his arms wide and a gaping smile on his face, John locked eyes with the stern look of reproach Clara was giving him and he deflated, muttering, "Classified gadgets," then lifted Henry up into his arms, rushing to the elevator ahead of the girls to murmur, "That I will tell you all about when your mother isn't around."

Clara, having hurried to keep up, gave him a small shove of disapproval, allowing, "I heard that."

"Super mum hearing," Henry whispered, eliciting a grin from his father.

They rode the elevator down towards the research laboratories and when it swung open, Martha was waiting, excited smile gracing her face as she looked to John and then to Clara as they stepped out onto the floor. "Clara!" She gasped, voice giving a squeak as she met her eyes and then shifted forward to quickly wrap her arms around her, "He's told me so much about you!"

They parted, mutual admiration evident, as Clara warmed and nodded, "Woman who walked the Earth."

"Impossible girl," the other pointed.

"He has a way with nicknames," Clara said with a sideways glance at the man looking embarrassed.

"That he does," Martha agreed.

Clearing his throat, John tilted his head towards Henry and then over at Olive.

The women shared a knowing laugh before Martha looked to the children and shook her head in disbelief at finally seeing their faces in person, asking calmly, "And how are you both doing today?" Glancing at Henry, she offered, "Olive?" and when he broke into a fit of giggles, she looked to the girl half hidden behind Clara's leg and bent to tell her quietly, "There's no need to be frightened, Olive, I'm an old friend of your fathers."

The girl sighed and told her, "I'm not frightened."

"I am, a little," Henry admitted, "Are you going to take our blood?"

Martha sighed and nodded, "Afraid so, and it'll pinch, but we've got suckers for when you finish."

Olive stepped forward and, after a timid look up at her mother, asked, "Can we have fizzy drink? Daddy says you have a machine that makes any flavor we'd like."

With a quick laugh, Martha admitted, "That we do and," she watched Clara close her eyes a moment to nod before continuing with a simple, "Yes, you can have a cup of whatever flavor you can think of."

"Licorice!?" Henry squealed.

Martha straightened slowly and looked to John, telling him on a chuckle, "They are definitely your children, Doctor."

"He's _daddy_ now," Henry corrected with a point of his finger.

John beamed as Martha lead them into her office, a quaint little room that held her desk, cabinets locked up and tucked in a corner, and a couch that sat in front of a coffee table that normally would be littered with documents she was studying, but today sat clean. No proprietary secrets lying about, John knew. He deposited Henry on the couch next to Clara, who sat and prompted Olive to do the same as Martha slipped on a pair of gloves, grimacing when she turned and saw the children were both buried in either side of their mother.

"Might help to have a demonstration," Clara offered.

"Mum," both children gasped as she stood.

"Clara," Martha shook her head, telling her quietly, "It's alright, I've got a four year old, screams bloody murder when he has to visit the doctor's, but once it's done, he understands it's not so bad."

"Mickey's son? Not surprising," John snorted.

But Clara sat in the chair Martha had set up and she called to her children, telling them softly, "Now just watch, mummy's not scared." She looked to Martha, "Go on, might be good to learn a few things while we're here." The other woman eyed her a moment, but snapped the tubing around her arm and withdrew the blood, listening as she inhaled and explained, "It's a pinch and a bit cold and you might feel just a little dizzy, but once it's done, there are treats – and you both like treats, I know," she laughed, "Henry, when we get home, I'd like for you to give me back the cookies you took from the kitchen last night."

Henry's jaw dropped slightly and he muttered to Olive, "Super mummy smelling."

"There were crumbs in your bed this morning," John supplied with a shrug, because he didn't find the offense anything more than laughable.

After a moment, Clara moved away and she beckoned Henry. He gave a sad pout to his father, who took his cue to kneel in front of the boy who climbed into the chair and glanced up at Martha. Holding his hand and watching him scrunch his face into a mess of wrinkles, John encouraged him while Martha quickly withdrew the small vial of blood and when she pushed the cotton ball to his arm and gave him his choice of brightly colored Band-Aids, he grinned proudly. Olive still seemed hesitant and she settled herself in Clara's lap.

"We could take a moment," Martha offered.

Standing with Olive in her arms, Clara sat back down in the chair and shook her head, "Baby, this has to be done today," she told the girl who reluctantly held an arm out for the woman waiting and pushed her face into Clara's shoulder as Martha drew blood, a small hiss escaping the girl as Martha finished with a muttered apology.

"Not so bad, eh, Olive!" Henry shouted, red sucker already sticking out of his mouth as he counted the cabinets in the corner.

The girl pulled her face up and Clara felt guilty, seeing the tears in her daughter's eyes and her quivering bottom lip before she smoothed the hair away from her cheeks and kissed each one, touching her forehead to the child's to tell her quietly, "My brave girl."

"Can I have the fizzy drink now?" Olive managed to reply.

Clara exhaled in amusement and looked up at John, nodding, "Can you take them; I'd like to talk with Martha a moment."

He stared at her quixotically before his eyebrows rose slightly and he nodded, "Henry, come on, you're going to love this machine," he started, "Lots of fun buttons on a touch screen to press."

Henry rushed to his side, hand easily in his, and Olive joined them, clutching John's other hand and suavely reaching into the bowl of suckers for a purple one before they slipped out of the room. Clara straightened her skirt over her thighs and glanced up when Martha shifted around her, head tilting forward to meet her eyes, and Clara laughed. "So, results?"

Martha nodded slowly, "Genetic testing can take a few days, but I'll make sure it stays in my hands – no one else will get involved."

"How long…" Clara started, before biting her lip. "Could you, possibly…" Martha knelt in front of her, reaching out to take her hands.

The woman smiled, "The Doctor told me – I could run that right now, let you know before they even get back."

Clara eyed her and then admitted, "He always said you were one of the greatest people he'd ever met; if he could go back and have a second go with any companion, you were at the top of his list – said he'd get it right, treat you the way you deserved." She shook her head and grinned knowingly. "I imagine, for him, this is sort of that second go. I'm glad, for both of you, that it's become possible."

Martha gave her hands a squeeze and offered a genuine smile as she stood, "He's a great friend; I'm glad as well… I'm also thrilled he found you – you don't know how much he needed you; I suppose he didn't know either. But he's a different man from when I last saw him – and I don't just mean his face." Martha released her hands and then gave her shoulder a rub, telling her plainly, "He's… _fulfilled_."

With a bashful bowing of her head, Clara waited a moment, then glanced up when the woman beckoned her to another room she was unlocking, carefully holding the tray with the blood samples on it. "Do you need help?" Clara asked quickly, standing and rushing to her side.

Giving her another look of something Clara might have defined as approval, Martha shook her head and allowed, "Thought you might want to come pace beside the machine in agony instead of sitting out here in an empty office."

With a quick giggle that reminded Martha of the children, Clara nodded and they went into the brightly lit room filled with lab equipment on long desks, making their way to a station that had been set up for work that day. For a moment, Clara felt guilty because she knew Martha would begin work as soon as they left and now she knew the woman had her own child to attend to. Watching her eagerly begin with her vial of blood, Clara was thankful to have her on their side.

When John returned with the children, both excited to describe the flavors they held in oversized cups that made Clara pass a frustrated humph to John, Martha was explaining the numbers and readings on the screen. Clara understood well enough, and she held Martha's hand in quiet appreciation as she turned her attention to the children now babbling at her.

"Mummy, they did have licorice!" Henry shouted.

Olive was taking a small sip, then supplied, "Cotton Candy and Apple; it's a bit odd."

"_Licorice_!" Henry repeated.

Martha laughed and stood out of her chair, looking to them and telling them plainly, "I knew a bloke who mixed all flavors and then gave himself a brain freeze by slurping it all up because he was so excited."

Pointing at John, Olive laughed, "Was it daddy?"

John touched a hand to his head and shrugged, "It _might_ have been."

Nodding to the door that led to her office, Martha offered, "Why don't the three of us go pick some suckers for you to take home with you; your mum and dad have to have a little private chat."

They moaned in protest, but went with her as John came to stand in front of Clara, look of concern etching onto his face slowly as he waited. Clara only grinned as he fidgeted, "Did she run the tests already? I was under the impression it would take days…"

She reached up quickly to wrap her arms around his neck and draw him into a kiss that sent his limbs into shock, knees buckling as his arms flailed out and then found their way around her. He hugged her body to his and she laughed, lips leaving his as she looked up at him and told him quietly, "You're quite the potent man. Almost six weeks along, according to the snazzy machine there."

"Almost six weeks along what?" He questioned, glancing at the machine and then back at her to exclaim, "You are?"

"I am," she replied quickly as he dropped his forehead against hers, laughing with her.


	8. Chapter 8

"There are small anomalies that align with your sample – at least in comparison to our own genetic structure, but I don't see how it would affect them negatively. You're actually _not all that different_, Doctor," Martha told him cheerfully the next Friday, handing him the file to browse. "I incinerated all samples and this is the only copy of the results."

John flipped through the documents, breathing a heavy sigh of relief before smiling up at the woman who stood across from him, hands clasped in front of her anxiously. "Thank you, Martha."

"I am a little concerned about what you said about Olive," she admitted, "But…" she started with a glance and a wave at two men who passed in lab coats, "If she's got some sort of psychic link to her mother, it probably won't raise too many flags – loads of people are empathic, so while it's probably something she gets from you, I doubt anyone will notice anything off. She just loves her mum."

He nodded.

"You're still worried."

John glanced up, "I worry that someone out there will discover where I am."

With a small bop of her head, Martha leaned closer, hands on the table, and admitted, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but, you're gonna be alright."

"How do you mean?"

Shifting back, she grinned knowingly, "Well, aside from UNIT secretly keeping light surveillance on Clara and the children – and by light, I mean, absolutely non-intrusive – you're still around. Saving the day," she laughed.

Pressing a palm to his forehead, John gave it a rub slowly, understanding dawning, and then lifted his eyes to her and told her sadly, "Spoilers."

She rose up, muttering a simple, "Sorry, Doctor, but I think it's reassuring that some version of you is floating around in the universe looking out for us."

He waved a hand and gave her a tight lipped grin, "Guess it was just a reminder of the finality of this life."

"Yeah, at least you _finally_ get this life," she pointed, "And you should be able to enjoy it without worrying about things attacking the Earth, or your children." Martha glanced at her watch, "Which, shouldn't you be off to pick them up, it's Friday, take them for ice cream, walk through the park, feed some ducks."

"Feed some ducks," he repeated with a laugh before closing the file and pushing it into his briefcase with a slow nod back to the woman waiting. "You should come over some day, you and Mickey and Sammy. Henry would love having another boy around – his sister rules the roost, in a manner of speaking."

Eyebrows rising on a smile, Martha nodded, "Would be nice, and I imagine both boys will be joining a tea party in tutu's by the end of the evening."

They shared a quiet laugh as he lifted his case and departed.

* * *

Clara glanced at her phone, at the six text messages John had sent to let her know that her and the children were genetically sound, a play date had to be arranged with Martha's son for Henry and Olive, he was craving a banana milkshake, he'd picked up the children, Henry had gotten good marks on an exam, and they were on their way home. She sighed as a seventh message rang through and Marge snorted.

"What?" Clara asked.

"Got that one on a ball and chain," she laughed gruffly.

Lifting her phone, Clara read, "_We've discovered there are marshmallows in the cupboard_. Don't know what I was thinking, telling him to text me important details – I don't think he understands every detail isn't _that_ important."

The woman smiled and gave a quick chuckle. "To John, missin' out on all those years – I bet those details are incredibly important to him."

Clara watched her as the woman worked on knitting a brown and black blanket before pointing out, "And you've stopped calling him names, I've noticed."

With a shrug, Marge glanced over and gestured at the phone, "Been back almost two months and I've never seen you happier."

"He's a good man," Clara agreed with a smile. The phone chimed again and they laughed as she lifted it and read quickly, "_Forgot to ask, how are you and the ba_…" her voice trailed on the second syllable of _baby_ and she clenched her jaw, quickly typing a response to let him know she was fine and would see him at home later and when she looked up, Marge was nodding slowly.

"Was just going to comment on how you've also had a healthier appetite, but thought it might insult you – my daughter says I have a penchant for inappropriate comments, but, Clara…" she nodded to her, "_Are_ you pregnant?"

Looking away, she couldn't help the small smile that was instant on her face, or the hand that touched her stomach and when she glanced back up, she could see the other woman's eyes had reddened – not, as she would have expected, out of anger or disappointment, but out of joy. Marge launched out of the chair, rushing to embrace her, and Clara gave a shout of surprise at the gesture, hands slowly meeting the woman's back. Then Marge pulled back and eyed her.

"You sure this is a good idea?" She questioned apprehensively.

With a nod, Clara told her, "Marge, he's not leaving – not this time." And she felt a swell of happiness at her assurance, finding herself weeping while laughing.

_He'd be with her this time_.

He'd insist on reading the books about birth and preparing months in advance and he'd be there. He'd feel this baby grow within her and be in the delivery room with her and she'd get to see his face the first time he laid eyes on their child. Clara knew he'd radiate like the sun because she knew how his features lit up every morning upon seeing Henry and Olive and how he watched over them protectively at night while she was readying for bed, after they'd fallen asleep.

She dissolved into full sobs, hiccupping as Marge tried to console her, asking her quietly, "Clara, do you need me to put a kettle on?"

Laughing, she looked up at Marge, and at Jamie, who'd come to the counter with a book and a terrified expression on her pale freckled face. "Sorry," she muttered, voice quivering, "Sorry, it's just so different from the last time."

"Y'alright, Oswald?" Jamie asked timidly, plucking the headphones out of her ears and placing the book on the counter.

She smiled at the young woman in the oversized hoodie with the Union Jack shirt and told her with a nod, "Yeah, I'm just fine," then added, "A little pregnant."

There was a moment in which the girl considered the statement and Clara knew she was working over whether she should make a joke about how one couldn't be a 'little' pregnant, deciding instead on dropping a credit card on the counter and asking her, "This one supposed to be secret?"

Clara hadn't considered it, and she understood Jamie was old enough to have heard about the things she'd done the last time, they'd discussed it once – the shame she felt and how decisions like whose bed you woke up in should be given greater thought than your choice of morning coffee. She shrugged, "Suppose it's not."

"'Cause you know this town," Jamie told her on a laugh as she signed the receipt. "_Well_," she sighed, "Guess you know this town better than most when it comes to gossip and the like."

With a frown, Clara nodded, then brightened to look at Jamie, "It's not like that this time."

"Ah," Jamie shot, chin rising, "Good bloke then?"

"Same bloke," Marge informed her, "Reformed."

Jamie eyed her, then pointed the pen at her, "This the tall fellow picking the kids up from school?"

"You've seen him?" Clara asked curiously.

She laughed, "Yeah, he takes 'em sometimes to the park where I study – don't know who's having more fun on the swings, him or the kids."

Clara smiled widely and nodded, eyes closing a second as she sighed, "Yeah, that's definitely him."

"Thought you might have picked up an odd nanny," Jamie shrugged.

She laughed, "No, he's their father – John."

Jamie nodded, then shrugged, "Well, I'll keep a tight lip anyways, g'bye."

The bell on the door rang as she left and Marge shook her head, telling her quietly, "Whole town'll know eventually – that one can't keep quiet about anything."

"That's fine," Clara snapped in amusement, then she frowned.

"What is it?"

She reached for her phone and admitted, "There's just someone I'd rather not have find out through gossip – she'd never forgive me; probably won't forgive me for not telling her about John sooner."

Marge settled back onto her chair and looked to the blanket she'd been knitting, furrowing her brow at it before muttering, "Nice baby blanket, that's what I oughtta be making – not this." She shrugged, looking to the yarn in a basket under the desk and glancing at Clara a moment before withdrawing a heavy ball of cream colored yarn to begin anew as Clara dialed.

Tapping her fingers on the counter, eyes scanning the empty shop, Clara waited as the line rang, checking her watch because she knew the girl might be in school still. She'd hate to think she'd get into trouble at the university over her call.

"Hey, Clara, you alright?" Came the response as Clara smiled.

"It's good to hear your voice, Angie," Clara told her honestly.

There was a laugh and the girl growled a bit before asking, "You need a sitter, don't you – got a hot date or something?"

It was Clara's turn to laugh as she sat back in the chair and plucked the fabric off her midsection, letting it settle back down against her as she sighed, "Not quite yet, but, I'd like to have lunch. Tomorrow alright?"

"Everything alright?" Angie asked suspiciously.

Clara nodded, feeling foolish before telling her, "Everything is great, I just wanted to catch up – we haven't exactly had the chance in a while."

There was silence a moment and then she heard the girl exhale slowly before telling her, "Sure, lunch, tomorrow. That café near the school?"

"One with the gnome holding the daily specials?" Clara asked, wrinkling her nose.

Angie chuckled, "Yeah, that's the one – and you pay."

"Sure," Clara groaned, "Always lookin' for a free lunch."

"I'm at university – lookin' for a free anythin'," Angie joked.

Clara closed her eyes and nodded again, crossing an arm over her abdomen to lean her elbow against as she uttered quietly, "Alright, tomorrow then, noon."

"You sure you're alright?" Angie repeated.

With a laugh, Clara assured, "I'm brilliant."


	9. Chapter 9

Clara waited anxiously outside of the café, eyes scanning every oncoming young woman for signs of her previous charge and when she finally saw her, she broke into a wide grin, arms ready when Angie rushed forward to hug her. Holding her at arm's length, hands clasped around hers, she took in all the ways in which the girl hadn't changed and the small ways in which she had. Her fashion sense still left something to be desired, but in the past few months she'd gotten a tattoo, resting comfortably around her exposed ankle, and her left ear had been pierced several times.

"Match up the other side, we could use you as an antennae," Clara teased.

Angie rolled her eyes, "You and Artie – even dad's ok with it, but you two, gotta have something to say about it."

"Well," Clara laughed, "We're your brother and sister – it's our job to take the piss out of you on occasion."

"Try all the bloody time," Angie spat, smile deceiving her.

They moved into the café and ordered sandwiches before settling into a booth at the window and Clara listened to the girl detailing her exams at university and how she wasn't quite sure it was for her anymore. Nodding slowly, Clara ate, glancing at bicyclists as they whizzed by, smiling at a mother pushing a pram, and when she turned back, Angie was staring at her, leaned back in the booth – her own sandwich barely touched – wearing an odd grin.

"Did you hear anything I said?"

Clara nodded, slowly, still chewing, and replied, "You're not sure Art History is a good major because you hate history, but you're not sure if there's anything there that really pique's your interest. There's a boy named Ralph who's a pain in your arse, but you'd like for him to ask you out anyways, and you're thinking maybe you'd rather just take a job in a shop than go back to uni again." She smiled, "Miss anything?"

Angie sighed in amused frustration and asked blankly, "That a mum trick, staring off into space while you hear the whole conversation?"

"If it is, it's a good thing I've still got it," Clara told her pointedly.

Relaxing, Angie asked, "How are Henry and Olive; feels like it's been ages since I've seen them."

Turning her phone on, she handed it to Angie and watched her face brighten, looking at the duo on her home screen before telling her, "They're good, they're happy we're in summer and they've been asking about their aunt Angie and uncle Artie, part of the reason I'm here, really – I need to talk to the both of you, but thought this might be easier… with you first."

"The Doctor's back," Angie started, finger swiping through the phone on which there were dozens of photos of the man holding one, or both of the children, or simply hugging Clara – photos taken at his arm's distance, or at odd angles by the children. She glanced up, "He's been back about two months; Artie told me he saw you guys at the ice cream place."

"_Saw_ might be the wrong word for it," Clara muttered.

Angie nodded, "He told me he punched him square in that fat jaw of his."

"Oi," Clara snapped.

"Sorry," Angie replied immediately, then glanced up at her, "He left you, y'know, and then you…" she hesitated, looking about the café, "I mean, I know the things you did out of spite."

Clara settled the last bit of her sandwich down and nodded, "He's their father."

"I know," Angie told her with a shrug, "Always knew."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Clara asked in shock.

"If you weren't going to tell me, I thought maybe you didn't want anyone to know. I mean, he's an alien and all, roaming around space. But the timing of it," Angie sighed at the phone. "And it's hard to look at Henry and not see him."

Smiling, Clara took the phone back and explained quietly what the Doctor had done and how he'd chosen her over his blue box and his travelling and she leaned against the chair, passing a look out at the bright sky, "Ang, I know it's hard to understand, but, he wants to be with his family."

Angie watched Clara a moment, then asked bluntly, "Where is his Tardis?"

She turned, ready to answer, but realized she didn't have an answer. "Haven't asked," she admitted.

"Well, before you go kicking out any more of his kids, you might want to know if he's got it stashed somewhere nearby…" her words slowed as she saw Clara's hand lying flat against her stomach and she hissed, "You're pregnant, aren't you! God, he's been back two months and you're already knocked up – what are you two, bunnies?"

Straightening in the chair, Clara lifted a hand, trying to get Angie to calm down because people were starting to look in their direction and she told her quickly, "Angie, please don't cause a scene."

The girl gawked at her, "_Cause a scene_? Clara, I'm not six – I don't _cause a scene_. I'm concerned, you're my friend – _my sister_ – and I'm worried this is all gonna come crashing down on you. Worse than last time. I mean, Henry and Olive, do they even know about him?"

"I didn't have to tell them," Clara whispered with a shrug, her eyes starting to water at Angie's anger. "I'm telling you because I don't want there to be secrets this time; I don't want us to keep drifting apart – I want you there when this baby is born. I want you to come around more often and I need to know you understand I've forgiven him… and I trust him," she shook her head before continuing, "Wherever the Tardis is, I trust that the promise he's made to me, that he'll keep it."

She waited, seeing Angie's resentment melt away as she looked out the window at the sky and then sighed and turned back to her with a nod, "If he hurts you again, I'll kill him myself."

Clara laughed, sniffling and shifting back to pluck a napkin from the dispenser to wipe at her nose before she nodded to the girl and agreed, "You and Artie – gang up on him."

The other girl chuckled along, then asked Clara sadly, "You're not worried? At all?"

With a shrug, she admitted, "I wake up in a bit of a panic sometimes, but he's always there…" Angie made a face and Clara asked, "What?"

"Just thinking about him… _and you_… does he even know what he's doing in bed?" She spat with a look of disgusted amusement.

Clara rested her hands on her stomach and gasped, "Got me pregnant twice now, obviously he's doing something right!"

Angie shuddered and Clara laughed at her as she moaned, "It's just gross."

Wincing slightly, Clara asked, "Are you, I mean, have you… with anyone?"

Letting out a sound of annoyance, Angie muttered, "Have you seen the blokes around? I'd rather keep as many layers as possible between us – might catch something." Then she asked, "Do you want me to tell my dad? Have a chat with Artie?"

She considered it, then sighed, "You could mention it, in passing? Your father and I will cross paths eventually. More concerned Artie punches him in front of the children."

"He wouldn't," Angie defended.

Raising an eyebrow, Clara allowed, "You didn't see him the last time." Looking across the table, she lifted a finger to point at the two halves of the sandwich before picking up the last piece of her own, "You should eat."

"Maybe you should eat it, since you're eating for two anyways," Angie teased.

Pursing her lips, Clara shook her head, "You, eat up and I'll give you a lift home."

With a sigh as Clara continued to stare, Angie picked up the sandwich and told her honestly, "I know I gave you shit when you were with us, but, you're actually a pretty cool mum."

Tilting her head, Clara offered, "Thought we agreed, you and I, sisters."

Angie smiled shyly and nodded, but repeated, "Still, pretty cool mum."

"Thanks," Clara whispered.

Watching Angie eat her sandwich, and then encouraging her to take the rest to go – because it would make an excellent lunch for the next day – Clara detailed her daily routines with John. She told the girl about how he ran the children ragged while she made dinner, or how he bathed them while she tidied up, or how he offered to read them bedtime stories so she could relax and ready herself for bed. She smiled, telling her about the school work he scoffed at and the actual work he secretly detailed to Henry while Olive painted his toe nails bright pink.

She laughed while explaining how he'd managed to split his pants while they played a game of Twister and then how they'd played 'buried treasure' in the yard on a Saturday with her father, taking turns hiding a bag of fake jewels from Henry's pirate costume the year before. Clara leaned in closer to tell her how he always brightened when he looked at the children and how he picked them up from school and walked with them once to her job – took the whole of their afternoon, most of it spent with him carrying both children, who'd grown too tired to continue walking – just so he could see her earlier than when she normally arrived.

Clara whispered about how he always found subtle ways to stroke her cheek, or touch the small of her back, or run his hand through her hair, or simply wrap his arms around her, nestling his chin into her neck as they stood in the kitchen while Henry and Olive danced in the living room to the music from some cartoon. He'd tell her quietly about his day and she'd tell him about hers and they'd share a small chuckle before the children realized they'd gone so silent and came to tug at them, beckoning them to play.

"And every evening – every single evening, Ang – when we're just lying in bed, waiting for sleep to take hold, he just stares at me," she smiled, eyes glazing over slightly as she brought the memory of his tired grin to the front of her mind, "And I swear, I've never seen him look at anything else the same. Not a star or a planet or the glitter of a universe a billion miles away. It's like he can see in me every possibility and each one holds so much promise for him that he doesn't need that box anymore."

"What do you see in him?" Angie asked, voice barely there.

Clara's smile was as easy as the sigh it followed and she admitted, "Exactly that. Every day is a different adventure – a newness and a hope and sometimes I can't even bare to look at him because I feel so much." She blinked away tears as Angie laughed lightly.

"You're starting to sound like him," Angie offered with a nod.

"Not such a bad thing, I think."

Shaking her head, Angie replied, "Not when it makes you this happy."

"I am, Angie, know that I am." She reached across the table and offered a hand that Angie held, nodding in understanding and Clara felt relief as they stood and walked out to her car. They eased into another simple conversation as she drove through familiar streets and left Angie at her doorstep with a hug before calmly driving home. She arrived in time to be attacked by two 'Daleks' who poked at her thighs with plungers and whisks and she laughed, glancing at John, who laid 'dead' in the living room, laughing quietly as he watched her.


	10. Chapter 10

Stepping out of the bathroom, Clara sighed away the day knowing she'd get another horrible night's sleep and then awake with a nausea relieved only by nibbles of food and sips of water throughout the morning. John had gotten her ginger at the market on the way home, and a bouquet of two dozen bright red roses he said Henry and Olive picked because they wanted her to feel better. She smiled, looking at the five stems he'd brought to their room to settle at her bedside – one for each of them.

"Was it different from Earth?" She heard Henry ask boldly, and she moved into the hallway and looked into the boy's room to find the man kneeling against the bottom bunk bed, looking in on the two children lying together.

She didn't need to see his face to know John was smiling, hand reaching out to adjust the sheets to their necks before dropping it atop Henry's stomach to give it a wiggle as he told him, "In a lot of ways, my home, Gallifrey, wasn't so different from Earth – there were cities and mountains and fields, we went to schools and we had jobs and houses to settle into at night to dream."

"But you said it was like the mountains were on fire once – I heard you and mummy talking about it."

There came a chuckle and John's head bowed before he shifted and elaborated, "The mountains did look a bit like flames sometimes, when the snow tipped them and the suns blazed against them just right in the evening. And there were fields of long blades of red grass I used to hide in as a child."

"Why were you hiding?" Henry questioned.

John laughed, "Why do you hide in the yard? We were playing at games, me and my friends – we had games just as you do here, and _oh _did we excel at them."

"How does mummy know, did you take her there?" Henry quietly prompted.

Hesitating, he shifted slightly and sighed, "Your mum did an extraordinary thing for me once," he stopped, considering his words before continuing, "I've lived a very long time and I've made lots of friends, but I've also made lots of enemies and one – this one called the Great Intelligence – tried to hurt me by going through time and attacking me all along it, all at once."

"And mummy saved you," Olive breathed.

He poked her nose, "Your mum, she risked her life to chase the bad guy all through time and she saved me, over and over again, she saved me." He grinned down at their surprised faces, "So you could say your mum is very old as well – and she was with me on my home, she's seen it with her own eyes, which is brilliant because there aren't any others around who have."

There was a silence then as the children absorbed the knowledge of their mother's bravery and then Henry took a breath and on his exhale, he spoke in a whisper, telling him, "So you and mummy, you're sort of like the magnets we've been studying in school – always sort of coming together," he paused and then quietly added, "You've been together forever, all the way from your home on Gallifrey to her home here. You've been _everywhere_ together. Is that what love is?"

"Henry," John allowed, "Love is knowing wherever you are with this one special person, you are home."

Clara pressed her shoulder into the doorway and crossed her arms, "Love," she called, seeing him turn sharply to grin up at her, "Love is going to bed when mummy says and not asking daddy more questions so you can stay awake longer."

"But mum…" came the whine from both.

"It is Friday," John offered with a shrug as Clara crossed the room, kicking aside a toy car with a shake of her head before she knelt next to him and looked down at the duo staring up at her. "Maybe one more story?"

Clara smiled at the excited looks on their faces and she sighed, "Did you both know that love is the oldest magic?" She felt John's hand at the small of her back, rubbing at her gently as she continued, "Love makes impossible things possible."

"Like fish clouds," Olive laughed.

"Exactly like fish clouds," Clara responded, equally amused before bending to slip an arm around the tops of their heads to explain, "And you."

"We were made by magic?" Henry asked, looking doubtful.

John hand rested at her waist and he told the boy, "Well, all children of Earth are made by humans, but special children are touched by magic; children whose parents had so much love that when they're made, they're made with the strongest hearts."

"Magic hearts," Olive uttered.

John pointed, "Exactly, magic hearts."

Henry touched his chest and Clara closed a hand around his, leaning forward to kiss his forehead as she whispered, "How would you two feel about a baby brother or sister?"

Exchanging a quick glance, Olive asked, "Could we have it for Christmas?"

"Unless I have to share my toys," Henry countered.

John dropped his forehead onto Clara's shoulder as she laughed aloud, then she realized, "Oh, I'll be due just after Christmas. It'll be freezing out. Snowing…"

"Do I have to share my birthday?" Henry questioned. "Will I have to share my Christmas _and_ birthday gifts, because that might be asking a bit much."

"Henry!" Clara gasped through a smile, leaning back and watching the guilt on his small face as he turned away from her. "Henry, you might have to share a room," then she turned and whispered, "I'm going to need a bigger car." Her hand came up to press into her face, "I'm going to need a minivan."

Eye widening, Henry pointed, "We should get a truck!"

John shook his head, "Maybe not a truck; maybe not a minivan – but your mother and I, we've made a new baby, a baby with a heart as strong as yours – a third magical heart in what I believe is a house of magical hearts," he smiled at them and Clara watched them blush even in the dim light.

"Is the baby inside mummy's tummy?" Olive asked shyly, starting to sit up and Henry did the same, both looking to her with worried expressions.

Clara carefully crawled into the bunk bed with them, lying down on her back, propping herself up with her elbows as John laid his palm down on her stomach and smiled, nodding at them when they hesitated to do the same. "Don't worry, you won't hurt your mum or the baby."

"But, it's inside," Henry told him, "How did it get in there?"

Eyeing John, Clara offered, "Mummy's have a special place to carry babies until they're ready to be born."

Olive suddenly perked up and told him, "Like the Kangaroo at the zoo!" Then she turned and gave Clara a sickened look before asking, "Is there a pouch?"

With a laugh, Clara shook her head, "I'm not a Kangaroo, I don't have a pouch on the outside, but same idea – baby safe in me until it's the proper time to be born."

Henry looked Clara over a moment, then sat back and asked, head tilted in confused, "If there's no pouch, how does it come out?"

John looked between Clara and Henry before sighing quietly, "You should get some rest, mummy." Turning to the children, he nodded, "Say goodnight to the baby."

Clara jumped slightly as both children shouted, "_GOOD NIGHT, BABY_!" at her stomach before Olive pressed a kiss to her abdomen and climbed over her legs to rush to her own bedroom, followed by John, who laughed.

Shifting, Clara turned back to Henry, who was still seated calmly beside her, looking down at her with his lips pursed and his brow twisted in contemplation. "What is it, Henry?" She asked, reaching up to hold his chin between her thumb and forefinger.

"How did daddy get the baby inside of you?" He asked. Then his dark eyes met hers, "How is it going to grow? _Is that going to hurt you_? Because you're quite small, _I think_, and if a whole person started growing inside of you, you could burst like a balloon. And how do we get it out so that you don't burst…" she stopped him by pulling him against her in a tight hug, kissing at his face until he was laughing and struggling against her.

"Mummy," he gasped as he giggled, "Mummy, stop it."

"I just love you so much," she argued, rolling him onto his back and leaning over him a moment, staring down at his smiling face. "You don't understand it yet, but you are your father's son – always so concerned in such a unique way and it's beautiful, Henry." He chuckled shyly. "You're going to be such an amazing older brother," she sighed honestly, watching his features calm as they watched her tenderly – the same way John did – as though she were his world.

"Well," he told her, head tilting slightly, "You and daddy made me this way with your magic," and he raised his eyebrows as though he'd told some joke and Clara laughed, reaching to tickle him before giving him one last kiss at his cheek and tucking him in.

"Whatever will I do with you," she sighed as he chuckled.

Clara clicked his lamp off and moved to the door, watching him turn on his side before stepping across the hallway to find John sitting at the edge of their bed, small smile ready as his eyes drifted up towards her, not raising his head. Closing their door behind her and flicking the lock, she made her way to him, grinning when his hands easily found the bottom of her nightgown and slipped it up over her head, leaving her almost fully exposed in front of him.

She expected him to toss her into the bed, but instead his fingers slid down over her sides and landed on either side of her waist just as his lips touched the skin just underneath her breasts, trailing kisses over her stomach. Clara rested her palms on his shoulders, smiling as she felt his thumbs gently caress her through the thin material between his skin and hers as his lips dropped to the spot he knew their baby would be.

"Henry is going to have a lot of questions later," Clara whispered.

Head coming up, he nodded before standing, shifting her back to strip off his own shirt and drop his boxers to his ankles, kicking them aside as he lifted a hand to her cheek, tilting her head back so he could kiss her easily. Clara sighed as his hand came around behind her to press her body against his and she skimmed her nails lightly over his back. Shifting away, he smiled.

"Olive thinks babies are delivered by fairies," he told her.

Clara took hold of the beginnings of his erection and with a laugh, she worked her hands over him to watch him bend slightly as she offered quietly, "Should I call him Tinkerbell?"

He shuddered and when she laughed again, he steeled himself, picking her up and turning to lay her in bed. John hung over her on his hands and knees, devious grin on his face as he ducked his head to tease at her nipples with his mouth before finding his way to her belly again, laying comfortably on his side. Clara giggled when he delicately slid a finger over her stomach, then laid his palm flush against her.

"John?" She questioned.

Without looking up, his hand slipped inside of her knickers and the unexpectedness of the motion caused her to shout out as he easily cupped her, teasing her as she clapped a hand over her mouth and pushed the other into his short hair. He shifted up then, removing the last bit of her clothes carefully before slowly settling himself atop her warmly and hooking his arms underneath hers, smiling down at her.

He kissed her simply and adjusted himself over her as she shifted her legs apart. Clara reached down and eased him inside of her and when his body pressed deeply against hers, she released a gasp against his cheek and then snickered, "Not Tinkerbell then."

With an amused huff, he agreed, "Definitely not."


	11. Chapter 11

"Pickles are what?" Henry gasped from the spot on his father's shoulders where he sat, hands in John's as they strolled casually through the market. The boy made a face of disgust that Olive, sitting in the front of the cart, laughed lightly at before pushing her hands over her mouth as Henry repeated silently, "Rotted cucumbers."

"They're not rotted," Clara corrected.

Henry tilted his head to give her the exact same look John was giving her – one that said _anything left in vinegar that long was, _most definitely_, rotted_. "Well, I don't like cucumbers," Henry finally said sourly.

Clara glanced up, "You love cucumbers."

"Not anymore," he groaned.

She looked to John, who shrugged and sighed, "I won't apologize for telling him the truth."

"Good job, _dad_," she hissed, "Now he won't eat cucumbers or celery."

"Or pickles," Henry added, finger slipping out of John's grasp to point at her.

Lifting the jar out of the cart, Clara put it back on the shelf because she could see, by the look Olive was giving her, the girl wasn't about to eat them for a few months either. With a sigh, she crossed the item off her list and continued on, pushing the cart towards the jams. She could see John swinging Henry's arms slightly, the boy giving small huffs of laughter knowing a twirl would come unexpectedly soon, leaving him with his head rolling about and a gleeful smile plastered across his face.

"Mummy, don't you like pickles?" Olive asked quickly, glancing up when John did twirl and Henry squealed and Clara thought the girl might have been a bit jealous of the boy who hated sitting in the cart and now got to ride atop his father's shoulders.

Shaking her head, she allowed, "Not going to let it go to waste, being the only person who doesn't mind a rotted cucumber." The children laughed and pointed and she frowned, eyes closing before she laughed, "I'm not admitting it's rotted. I'm just not wasting the money."

John stopped and asked meekly, "Do we not have enough?"

Henry stared at the ceiling tiles, but she could feel Olive's eyes on her, the notion of running out of money something the little girl seemed to understand, and Clara lifted a hand absently, giving John a quick touch at his chest as she shook her head, telling him plainly, "No, no, we're not – we're fine."

He seemed to be considering it and the conflicted look on his face amused her before he asked her again, quietly, "I appreciate if you're trying to be chaste for the children, but are we really ok?"

With a laugh, Clara told him, "We're fine, John. Plenty, trust me."

He rushed back and grabbed the jar and brought it back to the cart to settle beside Olive as he pressed a quick kiss to Clara's temple to allow, "Then have them."

They continued walking, Clara glancing down at the small bump now subtly pressing at the fabric of her skin-tight dress. It was something she found herself doing often in the past month, watching the beginnings of the life inside of her presenting itself to the world. She knew no one else noticed, she was only 10 weeks pregnant, but she'd woken just that morning to Henry trying to measure her with a ruler, declaring, sadly, "_I don't see the baby yet_." And she'd had to tell the pout he was giving her that he wouldn't really see anything for quite some time.

Her eyes drifted up and found John laughing up at the boy, who was making faces down at him before she turned to smile at Olive and she bent slightly, meeting the girl's eyes and telling her simply, "You've been awfully quiet, bug."

With a shrug and a sigh, the girl replied, "I don't feel like talking very much."

Clara leaned her arms on the cart as she pushed, face closer to the girl to whisper, "You don't feel like talking, or you don't feel like talking to me?" She feigned sadness and Olive's brow rose slightly.

Shaking her head, Olive whispered back, "I always want to talk to you, mummy."

Clara nuzzled her nose, listening to her giggle sheepishly before telling her, "Later we should go somewhere, just you and me."

"Just you and me?" Olive asked, looking surprised and Clara felt guilty for not suggesting it sooner, or more often, and she kissed the soft cheeks in front of her and smiled.

With a nod, she assured the girl, "Just us," and watched her face brighten.

"What about me?" Henry bent to interrupt and Clara turned to look up at his face, at the confusion that masked his features and then she looked to John before she straightened.

With another glance to Olive, Clara told Henry, "You and your father are going to have one of your secret mission discussions while Olive and I are going to have our own."

"Is this a game?" Henry questioned.

John swung from side to side and offered, "Maybe it is."

"What's the secret mission?" The boy asked quickly, smile brightening his face.

Clara laughed when John stopped and uttered, "Can't let the girls know…" and they continued to walk, passing occasional glances at the boys behind them now whispering, Henry bent low to listen and speak to his father while Clara turned her attention to Olive.

"Where would you like to go?" She asked the girl.

"Could we…" Olive started, sitting up and then bending slightly.

"What?" Clara asked, "Where, Olive?" She laughed.

Olive slipped sideways to look at Henry and she heard the boy shout, "No peeking!" before John hushed him and then Olive suggested, "Could we go to your job?"

"Why would you want to go there?" Clara asked incredulously.

But Olive smiled and told her, "The books."

She considered her and then sighed, nodding slowly and agreeing, "Back to work; always what I want to do on my days off," and she poked Olive's nose lightly to let her know she'd been joking before they pushed forward again, turning the corner to see Artie standing there holding an avocado and a bit of guilty expression as he stared at Clara and smiled when Olive greeted him quietly.

"Sorry, thought I heard your voice, but I didn't want to interrupt," the boy told her, shrugging.

Clara turned back quickly as John approached with Henry, twisting back to ask, "Did you talk with Angie?"

He nodded up at the man who came to Clara's side and gave him a tight-lipped grin. "Yeah, she said everything was alright and I should maybe stop punching blokes in the face to deal with my raging hormones."

"What's _raging hormones_?" Henry asked curiously.

"You'll figure it out in about eight years," Artie replied with a laugh before nodding, "Hello, John."

"Artie," John replied quietly.

Henry looked to Olive and Clara understood that even they could sense the tension between the two and she gave Artie a small nod and asked, "So, how've you been? Dad ok?"

Glancing back, Artie shrugged and offered, "Having a hard time choosing between a ripe melon and a package of bacon – I'm giving him just enough time to make his decision so I can go back and remind him what his doctor told him about his cholesterol."

"What's _cholesterol_?" Henry called.

"Means you can't eat bacon," John told him quickly before glancing down at his chest and giving Clara a sideways glance she knew meant he had no idea if he had cholesterol issues and she sighed in quiet amusement because she knew he'd be asking Martha to check on Monday.

Artie nodded to Clara, "So I guess I should congratulate you or something." He smiled then, mischievous and honest as he came around the cart to embrace her tightly, whispering in her ear, "Ang was right, you look good, Clara." He shifted back awkwardly before lifting a hand to John and nodding when the man shook it, "I expect you'll invite me over if you watch any good football matches."

John looked confused, then straightened and laughed, "Ah! Football! Yes!"

Clara turned as Henry asked, "Do you watch football?"

"I love football," John told him, seemingly remembering from a long time ago and the look on his face – both nostalgic and confused – amused her greatly. She wondered if he remembered the rules. "And yes, maybe we can turn Henry into a footballer," he suggested, glancing up at the boy who was looking nervously optimistic.

Olive sighed, "Henry's not very good at that sort of thing."

Artie laughed when Henry looked insulted and barked back, "I am too," before glancing at John and whispering, "Are you good at that sort of thing?"

With a nod, John clapped a hand on his knee and told him, "You'll be fine, Henry."

Artie stepped away from the two and held the avocado in his hands, looking them over before grinning awkwardly and shaking his head, turning to jog towards the man approaching with a cart and a package of bacon in his hands. Clara swung into the next aisle, listening to the boy arguing, "Dad, don't forget what the doctor said! No, you can't have that! Don't be ridiculous – I'll call Angie… yeah, that's right, more vegetables and stuff."

With a sigh, she knew she really should have gone to say hello, but John was now walking sideways just behind her, probably expecting the boy to launch at him when he wasn't expecting it. She laughed, reaching out to stop the package of cookies Henry had grabbed from falling into the cart and she re-shelved them with a knowing look just before he pretended he'd done nothing, smug grin on his face. Clara turned sharply when she heard the package of cookies drop against the other items in the cart and she stopped, looking down and then back up to meet John's eyes before he shrugged and walked off, same grin as his son, as they exchanged high-fives while she pushed on.

"You know you wanted cookies," John called.

"No, I didn't," she replied coyly.

"The baby did," he turned to tell her, before completing the circle for Henry's amusement and continuing down the aisle chatting with the boy as they went.

Clara laughed and looked to Olive, who was watching her, small smile on her lips. "What's so funny?"

"Daddy," she told her calmly.

"He is funny, isn't he?" Clara agreed, reaching up with a sigh for a second bag to toss in with the first, giving Olive a smile before whispering, "And I think he's right."


	12. Chapter 12

The shop was quiet and the jingle of the bell above their heads startled them both as they pushed in, Clara holding tightly to the small hand grasping hers. With another turn of her key, they were locked inside and she released her, watching her jump towards the couches just beyond the registers, throwing herself into one as Clara walked slowly towards her, fingers finding her own hips as she watched the girl test out each cushion on the two couches and one love seat before seeming to settle on one.

Olive's finger came up quickly and she gasped, "A book!"

With a laugh, Clara watched her shoot off the couch and head for the children's section, perusing the spines until one caught her eye and she pulled it carefully off the shelf, bringing it to her and then smiling over at the couch. Nodding to the spot, Olive ran as Clara asked boldly, "Did daddy sneak you sweets again?"

There was a soft giggle as the girl shook her head, sending her dark tresses over her shoulders before she shifted back in the seat, feet dangling off the edge of the cushion. She patted the seat next to her, "I can read to you, mummy."

"Oh, I'd love that," she replied, making her way towards her to sit carefully on the couch that even she was too short for and she kicked her boots off, tucking her legs underneath herself before adding, "I think the baby would love it too."

Olive smiled brightly, then glanced at her and asked timidly, "Can I feel the baby?"

Shifting back, Clara looked to her stomach and sighed, "Afraid it's a bit too soon for that, Olive."

The small hand came out anyways, landing gently against the fabric of her dress and Clara watched the look of concentration as she palpated her flesh hesitantly and then stopped and smiled eagerly up at her. "He's happy," Olive breathed; eyes wide and wondrous. "He's _so_ happy."

The child bent forward and rested her head against Clara's stomach as she stretched out to accommodate her and she stroked her daughter's hair, asking her curiously, "How do you do that, Olive? How do you feel him?" And she caught herself as her heart skipped a beat considering the fact that she didn't question her daughter's assertion that she was having a boy.

She felt the shrug against her body as Olive told her quietly, "I don't know, it just sort of happens sometimes," her eyes came up to meet hers, "The way it happens with you."

Clara touched the girl's chin, thumb coming over her cheek, "Does it happen with Henry? Or Daddy?"

Olive gave her a small smile, "Sometimes."

She laughed, "And what do they feel, _sometimes_?"

Her daughter's quick chuckle was surprising and she explained, "They're both kind of the same, all jumbled up in their heads – like they don't know how to think or feel just one thing at a time."

"And how do I feel?" Clara prompted with a nod and a reassuring grin.

Head tilting into her hand, Olive sighed, "You used to feel lonely a lot, and it made me sad because you were cold and kind of afraid – even when I tried to hug you real tight – but now you just feel warm all the time, like you're so full it's spilling out. I feel it, even when I'm not trying."

Clara reached down to slide Olive up against her chest, hugging her to her body firmly as she kissed her forehead and nose. Laying her head against her collar, Olive sighed contentedly and Clara whispered, "How about we just rest a little while?"

"Mummy?" Olive pondered, waiting for Clara to give her a noise of acknowledgement. "Can we do this more – just us?"

Rubbing her back, she chuckled and admitted, "It might be hard for a while, when the baby comes – he'll need all of us – but yes, Olive, I would like that very much: just us girls."

Kissing Clara's jaw, Olive snuggled against her and Clara held her like she had when she'd been an infant: one hand securely on her back, the other cupped just under her bottom and she hummed lightly. After just a few moments, the girl was asleep and Clara smiled down at her before shifting sideways, letting Olive drop down between herself and the back of the couch.

Clara traced a finger over Olive's pale features and then her hand drifted over the almost imperceptible bump at her own midsection before settling back up against it. She watched her daughter sleep until she drifted off herself, imagining the happy little face she'd be seeing so very soon.

* * *

John made a face of disgust when they dropped a glob of gel onto Clara's stomach as she gasped at the coldness against her warm skin. She didn't know if he was keeping track, but she knew she was at eighteen weeks and there was no disguising the rounding mass protruding between her breasts and her waistline. Clara felt an odd pang of anxiety in her gut knowing she should have come in sooner – this should be her second visit – but she'd had to get the children ready for fall semester and it'd slipped her mind.

Pointing with a nod, John asked roughly, "I understand it's necessary, but honestly, have you not come up with a way to heat that up?"

Clara laughed with the technician before he offered an apology she waved away and she looked up, "It's fine – more awkward than cold, really."

John grinned down at her and brushed her long bangs away from her face, hand resting against her shoulder as they began to knead her flesh and search the screen. Clara watched John, breath held as she waited for him to get his first glimpse at their son. And when she saw his mouth pop open, brow softening as his eyes watered over, she cried on a laugh while he pointed and began four sentences at once before rushing out of the room.

"He's gone to get my father," Clara assured the young man now staring at the open door.

And sure enough, John returned carrying Olive and ushering Dave and Henry into the room before pointing at the screen and gasping, "That's him, there he is," and releasing a loud hoot of joy. "That's our son, Clara," he told her, repeating almost out of breath, "That's our son."

The technician seemed taken aback, torn between continuing his job and telling them this many people weren't actually allowed in the room and he looked to Clara, who smiled and nodded at the screen. Fumbling a moment, he twisted several knobs and tapped a button before drawing on the screen.

"What are you doing?" Henry asked.

"Uh," the man started, looking over at the boy who had rested his chin just beside his mother's thigh, eyes trained on him curiously. "Just taking measurements – making sure the baby is alright is all and it looks," he gestured back at the screen with his pen, "Looks like he's doing just fine."

"Can they hear him?" Clara asked, immediately met by a chorus of agreement just beside her.

With another press and twist, the room was awash in the odd sounds emanating from her womb and Henry made a face as he straightened and grasped the bed, looking at her stomach. "It sounds like _that_ inside of you?" Then he glanced up at her, "_What are we made of_? Are we like the ocean inside? _Can the baby swim_?"

Bending to pick Henry up against his left side, John smiled between the two children he now held and offered, "We'll discuss that later, _but listen_," he looked around and they followed suit, before he eyed them again with a grin as he continued, "That's your brother's heartbeat."

"Sounds like a…" Henry started, beginning to tap against John's chest in a steady double beat.

The technician lowered the volume slightly and nodded to Clara, "He's got a strong healthy heartbeat, Ms. Oswald."

"A magic heart," both Olive and Henry whispered to one another.

Clara smiled, then stopped and asked quickly, "And that's _one heartbeat_, right? One heart – one baby."

Dave released a laugh that surprised them all before explaining, "Sort of got a surprise in the delivery room with these two."

The technician let out a nervous huff of a breath and assured, "One heartbeat. One baby. And," he pointed, "You're, well, seems you already knew, but, you're having a boy."

John looked to the screen and smiled proudly at Dave, "That's my son's…"

"John!" Clara interrupted.

But Henry finished, "That's his penis."

Olive giggled with him as they both laid their heads down against John's shoulders, both going pink in the cheeks as the technician bit his lips to keep from laughing himself. John turned to Dave and offered both children with a nod and a quick, "We'll be right out."

Dave nodded, smile widening as he looked to the screen once more before walking back out into the hallway to wait and Clara reached up without turning her eyes from image of his small rounded head and the odd body structure that sat snug underneath. The fingers that slipped into hers were warm and they gave hers a squeeze as her tears rolled over her temples and soaked into her hair. The technician took his notes as they waited patiently, enjoying every new angle and every little wiggle that body did for them and when he finally turned it off, handing them several printed photos and telling them they were free to leave whenever they were ready, Clara thanked him quietly, waiting for the door to close on the room to look back at John.

He met her eyes, smiling up at him through tears and he collapsed onto a stool just beside her head, wheeling it forward to lean against the bedding. Taking several napkins, he carefully wiped her belly clean and then remained, palms pressed into his cheeks, elbows on the bed, staring. He imagined what this had been like for her before, by herself, and he felt himself crying now out of sorrow, looking up when she touched his face, fingers swiping at the hair that now fell neatly against his forehead – just as Henry's did – and she grinned at him.

"What's on your mind?" She asked.

He sat quietly a moment, eyes roaming her face before finding her stomach again and telling her simply, "Clara, we're having a baby."

She chuckled, nodding, and agreed, "Yes, John, we are."

"No," he shook his head, "You don't understand," he reached up to take her hand in his and he kissed it, holding it to his chin before finishing, "We're having a baby – _together_."

And as he began to cry she understood: the guilt of not having been there for her before was tearing him up inside now that he was there to know what she'd needed. Clara shifted herself up and brought her legs down over the side of the bed and she hugged him to her, running her fingers through his hair and whispering to him, "Hey, it's alright; you're here now."

Closing his eyes, his cheek nudged her stomach as he sighed. He tried to calm himself before blinking up to tell her, "I should have been here to tell you how beautiful you are. Clara, I should have been here when you were afraid, thinking they might be born with two heads or two hearts to tell you it would be alright, no matter what." He shook his head, repeating, "I should have been here."

"Hey," she whispered, lifting her chin in her palm, "Doctor, you're here now."

Shifting up to stand, he pushed his fingers into her hair, cradling her head in his hand to bring her forward to kiss her brow. When he pulled back, Clara smiled at him as he sniffled and stared at her. "You're impossible," he teased.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"No," he smiled, shaking his head. "You're impossibly understanding; impossibly magnificent; impossibly brilliant and brave and kind."

"And _impossibly_ yours," she added with a nod.

John laughed, repeating, "And impossibly _mine_."


	13. Chapter 13

"Twenty weeks?" John asked before exclaiming, "Twenty weeks _already_?"

Clara couldn't tell if he was proclaiming the amount of time he'd been back in her life or if he was talking about their baby and she waited on the couch for him to return from the kitchen with a glass of water and a box of crackers for her. He handed her both items and then lifted her feet to settle himself down next to her, bringing her legs comfortably onto his lap to continue rubbing her bare calves, looking back at her with an easy smile. It was her weekend and the children were happily with their grandfather.

Taking a sip of water before wedging the crackers between herself and the sofa and placing the cup down on the coffee table, Clara told him, "He's moving around all the time now."

The laugh that greeted her ears was warm and soft as he leaned over her, hand coming up to lift her long shirt and expose her stomach. He laid his palm against her and shook his head, sighing as he rested his chin over the curve of her skin, hand slipping just underneath her back.

"I can't wait to feel him," he sighed before placing a delicate kiss just beside her navel.

She smiled and nodded, feeling herself becoming overwhelmed and John sat up with concern, seeing the tears springing to her eyes. Clara slowly swung her legs around and knelt up on the couch as he stared at her in confusion. Crawling over to him, she straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him gently before he shifted back, hands coming to her cheeks, thumbs wiping at the droplets that had spilled over them as he smiled, brow knotting together.

"Clara?"

"I'm just so glad that you're here," she sighed, head tilting slightly.

At twenty weeks, with the twins, she'd still been with the Maitland's. Clara would run through a routine of duties from cleaning the house to running errands for Mr. Maitland to waiting for the children to return home from school to making sure they'd done their homework. She'd make sure dinner was ready when their father came home and then she'd climb up the stairs, exhausted, to nestle herself in her bed and cry. She'd been so fearful then, praying to the universe that he'd come back, praying that her baby would be fine, begging to fall asleep and wake up in the Tardis – from this dream.

But now she was comfortable in her own home. Clara looked after her own children, she was secure about her little job and she was looking into the eyes of a man who adored her. A man who looked down at her growing stomach and settled his hands atop it a moment, then moved them around to her sides slowly before glancing back up at her. Clara's heart was free from the fear that had weighed her down the last time; filled only with what she felt for this man and her family.

She laughed softly. Her family that included her Doctor – John Smith.

_Ridiculous man_.

He smiled as she watched him, then met her lips again, this time with more passion, hands coming around her to hold her to him and he sighed into her mouth as she shifted forward, the bump of her stomach pressing against his. It continually surprised him, every day just a small bit different, just a bit closer to being in his arms and he sometimes found himself at a loss for words – in any language – to describe what he felt for a being he'd never properly met.

His son.

Fragile, but strengthening daily. And they were halfway to having him in their lives.

Sliding his hands up over the long shirt she wore, John clutched her to him a moment, dropping his head down against her shoulder as he felt her rubbing soothing circles over his back. He could hear her breathing in his ear, could feel her pulse pounding against the tip of his nose and he straightened to look at her, grinning back at him seductively. His Clara, who leaned forward and nudged his awkward nose with her small one and gave a huff of amusement before sighing.

"Who do you suppose he'll take after?" She asked breathlessly.

"You, I hope," he told her honestly before giving her a sly grin.

Clara laughed when he lifted her and then cautiously laid her down onto the couch, careful about his weight on her and he winced slightly when the box of crackers crushed under his elbow, listening to her let out a shriek of giggles as he picked it up and tossed it aside.

Smiling deviously at the joyous expression now staring up at him, he reached down to tug at her knickers, glancing up with frustration before telling her, "Did you really need to put them on?"

"Force of habit," she replied with a shrug.

"Bad habit," he shook his head as he told her. Sitting up, he shifted back and stripped her of the offending slip of clothes before laying back down atop her slowly, distributing his weight around her stomach and then telling her coyly, "Humans should really invent the equivalent of boxers – with easy access portals – for the ladies."

Clara lifted up slightly and informed him, "Oh, they exist, but do you really want Henry or Olive coming across a pair and questioning why they're missing a bit of material where it might count?"

He considered it, then looked down at her questioningly, but she crushed his lips with hers, right hand grabbing for the material of his shirt to force him back onto her. Clara gasped against his teeth when he slipped inside of her in one painfully slow movement that ended with his palms pressing roughly into the couch at each side of her chest, his chin lightly grazing her forehead.

"John," she managed, hands gripping his shirt and he bent himself slightly, kissing her delicately as he began to slowly rock against her.

She'd noticed he'd become more careful with her, as though he might hurt her, since finding out she was pregnant and while she appreciated the gesture, Clara didn't need him to be _gentle_ right now. Arching her own body, Clara lifted her heels to dig into his back, trying to drive him into her and he obliged with a quick grunt of understanding.

Releasing a loud moan that made her head spin, she jerked up into him and he growled slightly as his lips left hers and trailed up her jaw line and towards her neck, nibbling deliciously as she began to gasp on each stroke, knowing she was too close to climaxing. Clara shook her head against it once before resting her forehead against his temple, feeling the sheen of sweat off both of their bodies as he slid his brow to meet hers and by his breathing, she could tell he was nearing his own end –she just had to hold hers, but she couldn't.

Clara opened her mouth to shout out, grateful for the opportunity to, but a key slipped into the front door and she pushed John up roughly as her body spiraled out of her control while he scrambled down the hallway. She leaned back into the couch as the hallway bathroom door slammed shut and the front door pulled open. Clara pulled her shirt down over her knees as Henry and Olive shouted out for her, innocent to what had happened, but she knew, by the way they hadn't reached her, that her father had held them back and the embarrassment of him knowing kept her eyes shut a moment longer than she needed them to be.

Her cheeks burned when she finally turned to look at him, to register the awkward shock on his face as she clutched her knickers between two toes and brought them closer to her to pick up and try to slip back into as her father ushered the two children down the hall as they complained. Standing slowly, Clara let a hand fall comfortably on her belly as she moved towards her bedroom, passing her father along the way with a simple, "Clothes," and a gesture to her room and when she stepped inside, she laughed quietly.

Closing her door, Clara removed her shirt and crossed the room to her closet, quickly dropping a longer maternity dress over her head and finding a pair of slacks to take back out to the hallway, giving the bathroom door a gentle knock. "Am I in trouble?" he asked in a hiss.

With a laugh, Clara responded, "No, just open the door so I can give you pants."

"Why's dad not wearing pants?" Olive asked bluntly.

"He's in boxers," Henry offered with a shrug before adding, "Was he running to the bathroom so he wouldn't wet himself? I have that problem sometimes."

Clara bit her lip to keep from laughing as the door inched open and a hand shot out, retrieving the slacks before it shut quickly and she turned to look at her father. "It's Saturday," she pointed out.

His race reddened, "Somehow it never occurred to me you might be… _doing things_."

"On my day?" She asked, glancing down when Henry and Olive both placed their hands at her belly and began whispering their secrets to the baby. "Dad, you should have called."

With a hand to his face, he nodded and allowed, "Sorry, I honestly don't know whether to be angry or embarrassed right now."

"Well, he's my husband so I suppose embarrassed is more appropriate," Clara teased, then added under her breath, "I know I'm properly embarrassed."

"_Husband_?" Dave questioned, "Was I not invited to the wedding?"

She shook her head and smiled, "No, not in that… we haven't had a proper," she glanced down at the children now staring up at her. "We have paperwork, technically… Dad, _technically_ we've been married for seven years."

"Seven years," he repeated. "Seven years… you're Clara Smith?"

Door opening, John emerged looking odd in slacks and a t-shirt as he nodded slowly, "She chose not to change her name, or at least I imagined she wouldn't want to change her name considering Smith isn't technically my last name really, so technically… technically I took her name as it seemed more appropriate anyways, belonging to her in a sense… so technically, I'm John Oswald."

The other man laughed at the duo and nodded slowly, "You're married to my daughter, _on paper_, but you took her last name and…" he gestured down.

"Paperwork," Clara repeated, "He's their father on all of their documentation, UNIT provided new birth certificates and immunization forms, and in all of the digital records he's there – though the school had to be sorted out – dad, I agreed to it all."

Pressing his hands into his sides, Dave stared at her.

"We _wanted_ him to be our daddy," Olive supplied calmly.

Henry nodded, "He _belongs_ to us, grandpa. All of us, Oswalds."

John smiled sheepishly, stepping on tip-toe a second before dropping back and smiling, "I belong to them; I rather like that."

Clara inched back into his side and he dropped an arm around her, cheeks going red as he looked to Dave, and she nodded, "We'll get married properly, after the baby. Small ceremony, just some friends and family."

He managed a smile and a tilt of his head before sighing, "Everything you do is strange, John. It's strange and backwards and… just right for them." He nodded, "Anyways, reason I came by early, I forgot I agreed to help Marcus and Melanie move into their new place from the old house so I should be popping off." He nodded and walked past them, turning when he felt the children tugging on his jacket for hugs. Straightening, Dave looked to John and laughed, "You – an Oswald. Ellie would have loved this."

John stepped forward, bending slightly to feign a tickle attack on the two who rushed past him in a fit of giggles to latch onto Clara's legs as she brushed her hands over their heads, testing the length on Henry's before he muttered that he didn't want another haircut.

He stood before her father and told him quietly, "I hope I haven't offended."

Dave grabbed hold of him and hugged him tightly, clapping a hand to his back three times before shifting back and shaking his head with a laugh, "No, honestly, John – Doctor. Doctor, Ellie would have loved you." He nodded to Clara and the children, now moving towards Olive's room. "She would have hated you for leaving, would have put a fist in your face for hurting Clara, but _you_. She would have loved _you_."

"I'm certain the feeling would have been mutual," he replied quietly.


	14. Chapter 14

Clara sat awkwardly on the couch waiting eagerly for the children to enter the living room in their costumes, ready to head out trick-o-treating. She offered to stay home and hand out candy while John escorted them and, sadly, the children had been excited about it. Clara felt a bit dismissed, but she smiled as they screamed towards their rooms and began rummaging through the bags she'd not been allowed to see since John had taken them to the shops the week before.

"_It's a secret, mum_," Henry had told her when she'd asked.

"_It's our secret with daddy_," Olive had added on a giggle.

She had tried not to look too upset when they'd skipped away to find places to hide their costumes and she'd had to be discrete about cleaning their rooms over the past few days because they thought she was trying to peek. Clara wasn't; she just needed their rooms clean.

Olive came bounding out first and Clara smiled because she looked like a tiny old lady, small white wig atop her head, pink skirt suit hanging a size too large on her and she declared, "I am the Queen!"

"Your majesty," Clara gasped, "Don't you look lovely tonight."

"Yes, my dear," Olive agreed, "And… where… _Henry_!"

There was a loud clatter in the hall and Clara stood – one hand on her chest, the other on her stomach – as she moved forward quickly, but Henry rolled the rest of the length down the hallway and then awkwardly brought himself to a standing position beside Olive, fake gun ready in his hand. Clara let out a belly laugh of approval as Henry turned quickly in her direction; lips puckered slightly, eyes narrowed at her. He straightened, hand coming up to smooth back his gelled hair before he wiped his palm against the small tuxedo he wore.

"Henry!" Clara breathed.

"It's Bond," he rasped. "James Bond."

John came quickly down the hall, hands clasped together, and Clara brought a hand up to her mouth before dropping it away and laughing until tears sprung to her eyes as she shouted, "_Sherlock Holmes_?"

He shifted to look at her, straightening and nodding, "Yes, Clara – the Queen can't walk these streets with any old blokes. She needs the best and brightest England has to offer."

She nodded, approaching them to properly examine them as they stood, Olive's lips pressed into a tight excited smile while Henry continued to pretend to shoot everything in the living room behind her. Clara handed them both a bag for their treats and watched them run to the front door, bouncing slightly as they waited. Turning to John, she reached for the lapels of his coat and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Mummy, Sherlock doesn't kiss people!" Henry shrieked.

She smiled into his lips and then stepped back with a quick, "Don't be out too long, they'll get tired and cranky and you'll have to carry them home."

John grinned, eyebrows rising as he told her plainly, "Then I'll carry them home."

Shaking her head, she watched him walk past and as he stopped at the door he turned, pointing a finger at her and warning, "Look through the peep hole; I've got my phone; don't try to lift any heavy objects."

"Why would I do that?" Clara asked.

"Just," he raised both hands at her, "Don't get ideas."

Clara nodded and then saluted him as he stepped out with the two children and she sighed, glancing at the large bowl of candy sitting on the small table just inside the door, plucking a piece of chocolate out of its wrapper and popping it into her mouth.

Outside, John rushed to keep up with the two children who were running to the first house and he laughed, telling them coyly, "You know it's not going anywhere!"

Henry turned swiftly and bellowed, "CANDY!" while Olive giggled and they clasped hands as they rushed up the steps to collect their first.

It was an hour and a half later that he was walking back down the street, one child sleeping on each shoulder, faces smudged slightly with bits of their treats he'd let them consume along the way. He smiled, turning to give each of them a light kiss as they reached their front door and he struggled a moment, considering whether he should wake them or not, before he finally bumped the door with his head three times and waited. Listening, John could hear the television on inside and he fidgeted before bumping his head three more times.

"Clara?" He called, "Arms are a bit full; you were right." He added on a sigh, "Always are."

Giving both children a small shake to wake them, watching the grumpy pouts they wore as he dropped them down slowly to stand at his sides, John pulled his keys from his pocket with a bit of trepidation. Slipping the key into the lock, he felt Henry and Olive drop against either of his legs for support and he held his breath as he pushed inside knowing if anything happened to her while he was gone, he would never forgive himself.

"Clara?" He repeated, voice barely there as he stepped into the house and he heard the children both murmur their disapproval at their portable pillow moving away from them. "Clara?"

"Mmmm," came the reply from the couch, and he sighed with relief as he stepped down into the darkened living room to see her sitting up on the couch, eyes blinking open, legs propped up on the coffee table she'd moved closer to her. "What time is it?" She asked.

Henry and Olive stumbled into the room and both clambered onto the couch on either side of her, lying down and resting their heads against her stomach. John sighed down at her, sleepily grinning up at him as she laid a hand on each of them and gave their backs a rub. Shifting Olive slightly, he sat next to her and for a moment he just looked at them. His Clara and their children, perfectly safe; perfectly content.

"Got a load of kids not long after you left," she allowed quietly, "But it trickled down over the hour and eventually the only movement happening was inside me – I swear, I ate the candy, he got the…" Clara made a face of discomfort and John shifted forward, one hand coming up slightly as Henry straightened and stared down at her stomach in confusion.

"Mummy," he started, voice cracking slightly with sleep, "You bumped me."

She laughed quietly, hand caressing his cheek as he considered her, and then Olive came up with a quick intake of breath in surprise and Clara asked, "Did you feel him moving?"

"That's the baby?" Olive replied timidly.

"We can feel the baby?" John gasped.

"Suppose so," Clara offered with a laugh as he reached forward.

He laid a palm, fingers fanned out, and Clara smiled as Henry and Olive found spots on either side of his hand to lay theirs, all waiting quietly and then, suddenly, John let out a shout of excitement. The twins giggled as they jerked away, temporarily frightened by the suddenness of his joy, before they shifted forward again, guided by John's hand to a spot where Clara could feel the gentle thumping of a foot against her belly and she listened to the children as they prompted him to kick harder, laughing each time he did.

"Clara," John sighed, lips shaking slightly, "Clara, that's our baby."

"Yeah," she whispered, not able to achieve any volume in her voice seeing his face overcome with delight as he laughed through tears. And then he turned away, hands coming up to rub over his features and Clara looked to the children, telling them quickly, "Why don't you two get to bed."

"Can we sleep in our costumes?" Henry asked slowly, eyes coming up to find hers.

Nodding, Clara allowed, "Sure, why not."

They both kissed her stomach and then rolled away from her, moving down the hall with their bags of candy towards their rooms and she was sure she'd find them both asleep on the ground, open pieces of chocolates lying about, but she concentrated on the man now openly sobbing on the couch just two feet away. Clara moved up on her knees and inched towards him, embracing him and pressing delicate kisses into his hair and she felt his arms move around her, holding her tightly.

"Hey, it's ok," she whispered, "It's ok."

"I've seen him; now I can feel him," he managed. "Every day he's one day closer to being in our arms and every day I think about what this was like for you without me."

Clara shook her head, "And I know why; I don't blame you."

His eyes came up to meet hers and he cried, "I should have been here to comfort you and take care of you and I wasn't. Clara, I can't imagine how it must have been for you," he dropped his eyes away, "Your father was right – I thought I knew, but I didn't. I won't ever…"

She dropped down slightly to look him in the eye and Clara shook her head again, sighing, "Hey, it hurt – I won't tell you that it didn't – or that I don't remember the first time I felt them kick after eating bad Indian food with Nina, or that I didn't cry that it was some old woman on the tube who first felt them and not you… but you can't get upset over what we couldn't control. Not anymore." Clara closed her eyes and felt the warmth that rolled over her cheeks. She felt his thumbs, ready against her skin, and she smiled, looking at him to tell him, "You've been so amazing with them, John; you're there for them and you'll always be there for them and that means so much more than the time you missed."

Slowly, he nodded, and he brought his hands to her sides, the cotton of the long shirt she wore gripped in his hands, stretching it taught over her stomach and he smiled at her, sniffling lightly. "_You're carrying our second son, Clara_. I think those words to myself every time I look at you and every time I look at you it surprises me. You surprise me, Clara."

She smiled, giving her head a small shake, but he laughed and she asked, "What's so funny?"

"You," he replied quietly. "With everything you're going through – the hormones and the," he gestured at her stomach, "Re-arranging, and the stretching and the bloating and the…" he laughed, "Your body is in a state of complete chaos and you're worried about me. _You're_ comforting _me_."

"Well," Clara teased, "I am your wife."

He laughed and shook his head, "We should make sure they aren't eating the lot."

Clara listened a moment and then sighed, "They've fallen asleep."

Shifting to stand, hands out to help her off the couch, they moved down the hallway and peered into Henry's room, finding him sprawled on the floor, a sucker sticking out of his half open mouth. Clara gestured at him and John nodded, moving forward to remove the sucker and undo the tuxedo to begin getting him into his jammies while Clara padded her way into Olive's room, finding her neatly tucked into bed, her candy settled between her pillow and the headboard and she smiled at the girl, pulling the wig off her head and stripping back the sheets to find she'd already changed into her own pajamas.

"Oh, my bug," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss her goodnight before crossing the hall and stepping into their bedroom, seeing an odd lump on the bed in the darkness.

Flicking on the lights, she brought a hand to her stomach and chuckled softly, waiting for John against the frame of the door and when he emerged from Henry's room, looking slightly flustered, she nodded her head towards their bed. Clara moved into the room and picked up the sheet of paper that sat atop a small mound of candies and read aloud,

"For Baby, with love, Henry and Olive"

"We get a share," John said proudly, hands clasping together.

But Clara snorted and allowed, "I'm carrying Baby, it's mine."

"That's not fair!" He shot and she laughed at the disconcerted look on his face.

"Come here," Clara replied quietly, grabbing his costume and yanking him down for a kiss before he pulled the hat off his head and tossed it down. Then she shifted back and shook her head, "Oh no, Sherlock, you'll need that cap – you've got one last mystery to solve tonight."

"Do I?" He smiled, watching her reach behind her to lock their door.


	15. Chapter 15

The first week of November brought a cold snap that made Clara thankful they'd gotten the SUV and she smiled as she listened to the two in the back singing along to a cartoon playing on the television that hung at the center of the vehicle, just behind her head. John had 'work' he had to finish up and Clara had gladly driven the monstrosity to the school to pick up the two eager children who enjoyed the newness of the car even more than she did.

Clara was currently savoring the seat warmer, glancing in the rear view at the two now swinging their arms about in the air, then twirling them at their chests. She sighed when she felt the hard thump in her abdomen, thinking that maybe he kicked harder and more often because he had more room than they'd had. Or maybe John's human genes belonged to a footballer.

She pulled into the driveway and glanced back, shouting, "Slow down!" when she heard them undoing their restraints and yanking on the door to exit, Henry already bursting out to run to his father, standing in the yard, and then he stopped with a grunt and a loud crack, falling onto the grass as John cried out.

Moving out carefully, Clara rushed to his side and looked up at John before reaching out and feeling for the invisible barrier that stood there, eyeing him and asking, "You brought work home?"

He lifted Henry to a seated position and checked the bridge of his nose before Clara pulled a napkin from her purse to hold against his bloodied lip. "We needed to field test it."

"Well," Clara spat as she helped Henry stand, checking his teeth as she continued, "Find a field."

Olive moved forward and began to press her palms into the almost invisible glass-like surface, walking around it before staring up at her father and asking, "What is it?"

"Hard," Henry muttered, fingers coming up and then being swiped away by Clara as she stood and gestured at the object.

"What is it?" The woman repeated.

John looked at his son, who clutched the napkin to his face and was now moving to Olive's side to reach out to find the surface and he smiled before going to them and clicking a button on a small screen he held. A patch electrified and the two children jumped away before John bent slightly and stepped inside, beckoning them in with a simple, "Well, come on."

They looked to Clara and she sighed, nodding and watching their hands come out carefully, stepping oddly into the space next to their father and the patch electrified again, closing them in. Clara asked again, loudly, "What is it?"

"It's warm in here, mum!" Henry told her.

"It's like summer," Olive agreed.

"It's an environmental stabilizer!" John offered. "It would keep farms protected all year round and give us the capabilities to grow things here that ordinarily couldn't, like apples or mangoes – tropical fruits grown in frozen climates!" He clicked a button and the children shivered, "We could oppositely grow fruits and vegetables that require colder temperatures in places like central Florida – it would revolutionize the entire agricultural industry, saving billions and preventing crop spoil!"

Nodding, smile on her shaking head, Clara prompted, "Alright, get out."

The doorway appeared and the children jumped out, going back to testing its edges before John beamed and looked to her, "I offered to bring it home with me and I set it up, was thinking it might be fun to have warm picnics in the snow."

Henry repeated in shock, "A picnic, in the snow?"

"Are you mad?" Olive finished.

"Quite," John replied, bending to poke at her nose before straightening and finding Clara staring at him with her arms crossed over her chest, "What?"

"Henry just walked straight into your science project; he could have broken his nose, or lost a tooth."

"Those things are coming out soon anyways," John scoffed.

"What?" Henry gasped, hands coming up to his mouth.

Gesturing at the space beside her, Clara explained, "We can't have experiments about the house – that's what UNIT gave you all that lab space for, and the warehouse, and the secondary site you're forbidden from telling anyone about."

He wrinkled his nose, "How do you know about it then?"

She pointed, "You told me about it."

John smiled, "It'll just be for a few months."

"A few months," she repeated, hands falling atop her stomach. "John, I'm due in a few months – you're going to be tinkering with this at home when I'll need your help?" Her face crumpled slightly, but she caught herself, lips pressing together tightly as she looked down at Henry and Olive and told them, "Go inside."

They both turned and rushed to the door, leaving John outside with Clara, and he lifted a ribbon off the ground, showing it to her, "I was going to tie this around it – thought about putting it in the back, but the children need their play space and with the snow coming, they might want to build snowmen or make snow angels, or just throw snow at one another and I thought the front yard might be best. And it's only through January, then the boys come crate it up and take it back, but it needed to be tested daily in an everyday environment and I volunteered… without thinking, I jumped without thinking."

"You were _the Doctor_," she replied honestly, one hand coming to press against her forehead before she let it drop away with a laugh.

He understood what she meant – he'd acted on impulse, looking to save the world without considering the impact it might have on those directly around him and it was old behavior. It was wrong and… "I should have consulted with you first, I…" he paused, shaking his head, "I'll have them come pick it up in the morning, take it back to the lab – we must have some space to settle it in."

"No," Clara sighed, "No, it's done."

"Clara, really, I could…" he began to plead.

"Doctor," she replied quickly, "It's done. Few months to test it and back it goes."

She walked past him and into the house, leaving him outside holding the ribbon with a frown.

* * *

The house was quiet when she finally sat down at the dining room table to look at bills. Clara sighed as she spread the papers out and pushed her hands into her hair looking at her check book. John watched her cautiously from the edge of the hallway. He'd never asked about the bills, he'd never thought to because Clara took care of them. He realized that she actually took care of quite a lot around the house. Quite a lot more than he'd ever thought was necessary.

He played games with the children; Clara took care of the house.

Leaning against the wall, he considered that maybe he wasn't being the human he should be. He asked her what she wanted, but he didn't consider what she needed. Maybe he should pick up a mop on occasion, and not just to swing around as a fake microphone. Or he could consider learning to properly do laundry. He smiled, then shuddered at the thought as he turned back to look at her. Her bare feet were pressed into the front two legs of the chair at the head of the table and she sighed as her eyes scanned over it all.

And she suddenly began to sob.

"Clara!" He gasped, moving forward quickly and dropping beside her to pull one hand away from her face and when she turned to him, he felt the freeze of terror in his chest thinking somehow they couldn't pay their bills. He was ready to console her, to tell her he would ask for back pay if necessary – because he'd been helping UNIT out for far longer than just the past seven months – but she shook her head.

"I can buy a crib," she managed, turning and raising her hands slightly, "_I can buy whatever I want_."

"What?" He questioned.

She shrugged, "When I was pregnant with Henry and Olive, I had to give up my position with the Maitland's and no one would hire me so far along and I…" she shrugged again, "I didn't have much money, couldn't afford to get a fancy crib or much of anything. Dad got what he could and I got help from some friends, but, I couldn't just walk into a store and point and say '_I'd like that for my baby'_, and it's been that way for so long and I'm looking because I'm thinking we're going to have to start getting things for him and we have money."

"Clara?"

"_We have money_," she repeated on a ragged laugh. "John, we can get him the crib we want and not what's being cleared out, and we can find a nice pram – _a really nice pram_ – with a proper car seat that hasn't been spit up in already. And if I like an outfit, I can buy it and," she glanced sideways before sighing, "A breast pump."

Straightening, he asked, "_A whu_?"

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "I'm sorry I'm being emotional."

"You're pregnant," he rationalized with a tilt of his head, hearing the laugh she gave him in response.

Clara shifted in the chair and she touched his face, cupping it in her hands a second before letting them fall away as she closed her eyes, "I'm sorry, what I said earlier, the thing out front… it's fine, just tell me next time."

"I promise I will," he nodded.

"Because a picnic in the snow sounds beautiful," she smiled, looking back to the papers scattered in front of her as John raised himself up and fell into the seat at her side, taking hold of her hand across the table and looking down over it all. "What is it?" Clara asked, voice cracking.

He nodded over everything and told her, "I should take on more here at home; I should be more here at home than just the father who plays with the children."

She laughed loudly before clamping her free hand over her mouth and when she removed it she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. "I love the father who plays with his children." Clara sniffled, then leaned back and offered, "He's kicking really hard."

Shifting his chair closer, John laid his hands on her and he smiled when he felt the thumps, reaching to pull up the edge of her night shirt so he could see the odd movements against her skin. Clara pressed her palm against the spot just under her ribs he seemed to be attacking and she felt him shift, taking a short breath of satisfaction before he landed a fist against her bladder. She moved to stand, shirt remaining obediently atop her stomach until she gave it a tug.

"Gotta wee," she told him on a laugh, bending to shuffle all the paperwork together to clasp between her fingers and hand them to him as he lifted himself out of his chair, "Just set it on the dresser, I'll be in in a moment."

John nodded and she stepped on tip toe to kiss the edge of his lips, smiling as she dropped back down and moved down the hall. He watched her, small waddle now evident in her walk, as she slipped into the hall bathroom with a look of discomfort. With a quiet chuckle, he entered their bedroom, thinking about his own crib, hidden away on the Tardis and he sighed with nostalgia as he threw himself onto the bed.


	16. Chapter 16

"Do you ever think about having another child?" Clara asked Martha brightly, watching her smile as she rested her hand atop Clara's belly.

They'd met at the park and were both sprawled on a picnic blanket, a basket of sandwiches just beside them and a small mountain of discarded hats and mittens squashed between them. Martha looked out to the two boys conspiring underneath a slide, her son gesturing wildly before pressing a fist into his other palm and nodding to Henry. As if they'd just organized a mission – the way he did with his father when they played.

With a small nod, she looked back to Clara just as the baby kicked and she laughed. "On our schedules though," she shrugged, "I imagine it would be difficult, but yeah – I think about it all the time." Then she clasped her hands together on her lap and asked timidly, "What about you and the Doctor? After this one, I mean."

Clara straightened and looked out to Olive, swinging and chatting with another small girl and she smiled, "Already on three," she turned to look at Martha with a laugh, "Could you imagine four?"

But Martha considered it and told her honestly, "With the Doctor, I imagine he'd be fine with as many as he could have – you don't know how much he talks about them at work. _Thankfully for him_ he can talk and work on three things at the same time."

Touching her stomach, Clara admitted, "Maybe it's the exhaustion talking, but I might cut him off after this one."

"I don't suggest you putting it to him like that," Martha laughed, "He's likely to think you'll literally cut him off."

Clara laid down, leaning into her palm as she joined in Martha's amusement before shaking her head and allowing, "Might actually be fun to let him think that for a bit."

"Oh," Martha replied, "He'd do research."

Henry and Sam landed with heavy grunts on their stomachs against the blanket and both smiled devilishly at Clara when she gasped. "You boys ready for food?" She questioned.

They growled and barked in response and Clara sighed because she'd have two boys of her own soon and knowing they were _the Doctor's_ sons meant there would be trouble. She grinned as she lifted the top of the basket and handed them each a square, watching them bark and giggle in response before sitting up to eat. Two sons, Clara considered feeling a small swell of emotion as she felt the movement inside of her and lifted a hand to it.

"Is the baby moving?" Sam questioned, head tilting sideways to look at her.

With a nod, she asked quietly, "Would you like to feel him?"

The smaller boy was hesitant, but Henry nodded at him and he shifted forward, settling the sandwich down to reach forward and let Clara direct his hand, smiling when he giggled and told her, "That's weird."

"That's Kevin," Henry sighed. "Suppose he is a bit weird."

Clara laughed, "Kevin? What?"

"We named him," he gestured out to the swings where Olive was now idly moving back and forth by herself, and then nodded again.

With a shake of her head, Clara told him, "We're not naming the baby Kevin."

"Have you decided on a name?" Martha asked, glancing up as Sam came to sit in her lap to finish his sandwich, resting his head at her chest with a sigh that let her know he might be ready for a nap.

Glancing at Henry and then at her stomach, she admitted, "Actually, we haven't really talked about it."

"We did," Henry said, again raising an arm between himself and Olive, "We wanted to tell you, but you'd locked the bedroom door again."

Looking to Sam, his eyes blinking to try and stay open, Clara handed Henry a napkin and then told him plainly, "Why don't you get your sister so we can head home, I think everyone's in need of a little down time."

"I'm too old for a nap," Henry told her defiantly.

Clara pointed, "Go get your sister." He stared for a moment, but then relented, pushing off the blanket and rushing across the playground as Clara turned to Martha. "I don't need to be told what I'm in for – I don't think we need more than three."

Cradling her son, Martha laughed with her and then stopped when she felt the odd tremor in the ground, reaching out to help Clara lift herself back up into a seated position so they could both look around. None of the others in the park had noticed, but Clara and Martha had travelled with the Doctor and they could feel that unquestionably tickle on the back of their necks that told them something was terribly wrong. Something that was getting closer, by the vibrations, and when the grass just beside the playground cracked open, they were both on their feet.

Martha gripped Sam to her chest and turned when she saw Clara break into a run towards her children, screaming at her to stop, but Clara could see the metal prongs reaching skyward, twisting and clasping at air. She felt the surge of adrenaline as she held her stomach and ducked around a chunk of soil dropping down from the sky and slid to a stop when the ground in front of her broke, a coiled leg moving through the dirt like a knife through butter.

The hands underneath her arms, pulling her away made her shout out, but she could hear Martha, ordering her to move away.

"Henry!" Clara bellowed. "OLIVE!"

She saw a flash of purple rush between two of the large robot's legs and the small body that launched itself into her side trembled against her as she ran her hands over her, checking for any injuries. "Mummy, what is it?" Olive cried.

Taking several breaths, Clara moved away under Martha's insistence, and when they stood, huddled under a tree, she continued looking out at the playground, the large gap in the Earth, and the parents and children running around in terror as the robot surveyed the land. Pulling Olive off of her and taking her tear stained cheeks into her palms, she asked forcefully, "Olive, where's Henry?"

The girl took a long ragged breath and pointed back, "He went to the playground."

"I told him…" Clara started, but her throat closed around the words as the robot turned swiftly down towards someone moving just underneath a slide.

"HENRY!" Clara screamed.

* * *

His chest was burning as he pressed his back into the red plastic above him and Henry coughed against the dirt stirred in the air, releasing a small moan of a cry before peering up at the large blue lights that swung down at him. He tried to think about everything his father had told him about his adventures, but he was terrified, wanting his mother to come scoop him up and carry him to safety and when the older hand wrapped itself around his, he turned with a small gasp to look into unfamiliar grey eyes that smiled warmly at him.

Brow furrowing, Henry stared at the man who looked him over and when he brandished a Sonic, swiping the bright silver light over his body, he asked quietly, "Daddy?"

"It's alright, Henry, I'm going to take you to your mum," the Doctor told him quickly, giving him an awkward smile as he tugged him back towards the swings.

Henry hesitated, trying to pull his hand away and he barked, "Let me go!"

"Henry," the man replied, bending, "I understand, I really do – but consider that it's me or the monster and I'm trying to take you to your mum. That's good right? Mummy, just under that tree with your sister."

Eyeing him as the man looked out to the silver legs now stomping in a circle around the playground to bend and get a better look at them, Henry asked boldly, "Who are you?"

"I missed this defiance, Henry, _I really do_, but there's no time," he grabbed Henry, pulling him up into his arms and then walked out to look at the robot, squinting against the sunlight to shout, "Alright there, big fellow, got my attention."

It bent quickly and Henry gasped as it shouted, "Earth child has been chosen for incorporation into the matrix."

Looking at Henry, the Doctor tilted his head and pointed his Sonic, "Bit of a problem, mate – this Earth child is under my protection."

It took two stomps forward, reiterating, "Earth child meets the specifications for inclusion; Earth child was selected specifically for higher brain functions and must be surrendered."

"Or what," the Doctor spat, "You'll squash me? Holding the Earth child? I'd like to see you try…"

There was a beam of blinding light and Henry threw his face into the Doctor's shoulder with a shriek as the man jumped back away from the robot. It crackled, arches of lightning bouncing between its joints, and then it fell over with a crash as the Doctor glanced sideways to see John standing a few feet away holding a large gun and looking amused before he turned and looked him over.

"Think I remember this bit," the Doctor supplied with a smirk.

"Guess that means you're the next," John allowed, settling the gun in another UNIT soldier's hands before rushing to take Henry from the Doctor, watching the boy's eyes widen just before he latched onto his neck and began to cry. "I'm sorry, Henry," he sighed, "I know that was very scary."

"YOU ARSE!"

Both men turned with identical winces at Clara's voice as she charged at them. "Remember this bit too," the Doctor allowed.

She approached John and landed a hard fist into the arm not carrying Henry and then she shouted, "_You don't do this anymore, John. YOU DON'T DO THIS_!"

Taking a step back, John pointed at the machine the soldier was holding, looking apprehensive, and the solider gave a jump, as though the very pregnant woman might attack him. "It's an EMP gun, rendered the robot harmless. It's spare parts now, Clara – and everyone is safe."

Her nose flared as she pointed, "You make the gun and you hand it over for someone else to throw themselves into the fray. You don't even like guns. Why are you making guns? _Are you making guns now_? _Is this what you do at work_?

"Clara, calm down," the Doctor warned.

She turned and landed a punch at his shoulder, "Don't think I don't know who you are."

"I came to stop it; he didn't have to get involved," the Doctor scoffed.

Shifting, Clara looked between the both of them, at the looks of terror on their faces as she planted her hands against her waist, feeling her body surging with fear as her heart pounded in her chest. "Argh!" She finally shouted at both of them as Olive called her name just before Clara was struck with a sudden dizziness and stumbled forward into the Doctor's arms.


	17. Chapter 17

Her eyes opened slowly and Clara could hear a gentle beeping somewhere nearby. Knew by the repetitious nature of it that it was her own heartbeat and the notion confused her as she stared up at the ceiling tiles above her with a frown. Clara turned slowly, realizing she was in a hospital and her hand instinctively found her belly, eyes closing as she judged the roundness of it, breathing a sigh of relief when she understood he was still there, safe inside of her. And he gave her a soft set of taps at her hand with a tiny fist to assure her.

Licking her lips, she let her head fall to the side and she could see John leaned against the tall window, peering out over the city. Clara could make out, even in the dim light, the trails his tears had carved onto his left cheek, could see one hanging precariously against his chin. He sniffled and in the motion the drop fell against his chest. With a small smile Clara opened her mouth to call out to him and the name escaped on a sigh he turned towards, face instantly crumpling with joy and fear as he made his way to her, collapsing in the chair that had been at her bedside.

"Hey," she said softly as his lips pressed tightly together, an attempt to keep them from trembling, before she pouted in confusion and shrugged at the room around her. "What happened?"

Taking her hand, he nodded slowly and when he spoke, his voice was broken, as though he'd been crying for quite some time and it hurt Clara's heart, "They say the elevated stress of the attack at the park was just too much for you and the baby, you passed out, but you're fine, they just wanted to keep you for observation." He touched her stomach, fingers of his left hand giving her a gentle rub before adding, "He's fine, Clara."

She inhaled slowly and watched him as he intertwined his right hand with hers and then she raised her other hand to her stomach again and felt the knob there, asking quietly, "Baby monitor?"

He laughed lightly, reaching over to raise the volume on the machine beeping at her side and she could hear the familiar whooshing of their baby's heartbeat as John smiled. "You weren't having contractions, but they were concerned you might go into labor prematurely," he admitted.

"Very prematurely," she knew, lowering her brow and looking down at her stomach, thinking to her child that he'd better not get any ideas before glancing around and asking, "Where are Henry and Olive?"

With a nod, he explained, "They went with your father. Should be around in the morning to see you and hopefully we can all go home."

"Oh," she chuckled, imagining her father being called to the hospital and finding two Doctors there waiting for him to explain. Clara began to ask in amusement, "Did he…"

John's brow came up quickly as he interrupted, "He was tempted, and I was certain I'd be on the receiving end, but he punched the Doctor instead."

Clara laughed lightly and nodded, "So, he did punch you."

"I'm sure it'll be painful, when I'm in his shoes," he sighed, looking apprehensive.

With a small nod, Clara couldn't hold back the tears as she admitted, "When I saw him holding Henry, I thought you had used the Fob watch – I thought you'd become the Doctor again because something had happened and then you had died and a new you had come to the park to stop it. I thought you had died; I thought you…"

He stopped her with a soothing shushing, lifting himself up to press a kiss into her forehead and then he rubbed at the space with his thumb before wiping at her tears. Sighing into her face, he nodded and told her sadly, "One day I'll take up that old watch, Clara," he smiled and nodded, finishing, "But today is not that day."

"Is Henry alright?" She asked on a whisper.

With a sigh, he admitted, "He's a bit confused, and he's asked me to destroy all of his robots… and Olive won't stop holding his hand, she says he's afraid on the inside and won't admit it, much like his mum, but he'll be fine." He nodded slowly. "Henry will be just fine, Clara."

Biting her bottom lip, Clara gave his hand a squeeze and asked slowly, "What did that thing mean when it said he had a higher brain function?" She paused, watching his features harden slightly thinking on what that machine wanted to do to his son. Clara inhaled and then questioned, "Is there something wrong with his brain, John? Is that something Martha missed?"

He lifted a hand and then dropped it away, admitting, "The brain – how it works – it's not really something you can measure with blood work." Shaking his head, he explained, "I've spent quite some time thinking on it actually, before today even. Both of the children… because of me, their minds are built different, they function differently. It's why Olive can sense you; it's why Henry makes odd connections – when he says _funny things_," he laughed. "It's the Time Lord in them. They're not biologically different in a way that would cause them to stand out, but their minds…."

"Are different," Clara finished with a small sigh. "That thing scanned the whole Earth and found Henry because of the way his mind worked." She glanced at him, worry evident on her face.

With a rub of his own head, John admitted, "I've had my suspicions before, but I didn't want to put them through the trauma of a scan – it can be quite terrifying. But because of those suspicions, I've been working on a perception filter for them for some time now – something that wouldn't necessarily take them off any human radar, but would prevent anything non-human from detecting them. Just in case," he told her, then added, "I wasn't expecting today. The Doctor, the only thing he told me before he left, was that I was right to want to keep them hidden." He shook his head. "I can only imagine he meant this."

Watching him considering it, she could see it was tormenting him and she knew, deep down, he was blaming himself for Henry being in danger. She touched his arm and asked, "Will it hurt them?"

He shifted, features melting into a smile to tell her, "No, Clara, it won't hurt anyone. It would be like holding up a mirror to an enemy – if they only see themselves, they move along because they are, to themselves, harmless." He raised a hand and continued, "And it would be small, could fit it to the inside of a watch, or a locket. Until they're older, they wouldn't even have to know. And I'd like for you to wear one, just in case."

"You think I _was_ altered by the trip through your time stream."

He shrugged, "I don't know, but I don't want to take any chances that you were and someone comes after you the same way," and then he looked to her stomach, "And, just in case, I'd like for him to wear one as well because if your genetic coding was altered, his might be as well."

"Time Lord parenting tips," Clara teased, watching him chuckle. "Perception filter your children to avoid mishaps with aliens from outer space.

He lowered his eyes to the ground and sighed in frustration, "Even without the travelling and the Tardis, you're all in danger because of who I am."

Shaking her head, she sighed, "And you're working to rectify that; you'll keep them safe – apparently even after you're gone." She smiled sadly and nodded, "That's somewhat comforting, that you're still out there saving the day."

He released a humph of a laugh and Clara glanced up at him as he replied, "Martha said something similar to me before and I suppose it is reassuring that I can save my children even when I can't."

"But you did," she allowed.

"But if he hadn't been there to take Henry and distract that robot…"

"Don't think on it like that, John. You were there – two of you were there for him and I imagine you'll always be in some way for all of them." She sighed, feeling a twinge of jealousy that even as many years into the future as he goes, he can revisit his children and grandchildren… the whole of his lineage he started with her on Earth where she will just die one day.

"Clara?" He asked lightly.

Clara grinned at him and then slipped her hand out of his, reaching over and turning the volume up on the heartbeat to listen to it. "He needs a name, you know."

"I've been thinking about that too," John smiled.

"Have you?" Clara teased.

He stood and pulled a sheet from his back pocket as Clara laughed.

"You _have_ been thinking about it!"

Unfolding the paper, he smiled devilishly and raised his eyebrows coyly, "From the moment I knew we were having a son... possibly before… and I could find you that other list that's hidden away in my briefcase. In case, you know," he smiled, holding the list, "One day, another daughter."

Clara smirked at him as she reached out to take the list, "Let's see what you've come up with." She glanced over the list with a few nods before asking, "Roranicus?"

"Was the nickname of a good friend of mine," he offered with an excited bop of his head and a wide grin.

"Susan," she read before frowning at him.

He gestured at her stomach, "We don't know what his life choices might be, he could prefer a traditionally female name."

She managed a laugh and a shake of her head before reading off quickly, "Ian, Adric, Wilfred, Alistair – I've heard these names before, we're not naming our son after one of your companions."

"Why not, they're perfectly good men with perfectly good names," he argued. Then he leaned forward and whispered at her belly, "Mummy already has your name picked out, doesn't she, baby, and she's being coy with me to let me think I've had a part in the process."

Smiling knowingly, Clara lifted her hand to lightly push it through his hair, landing her palm at his cheek and she watched as he cupped his hand around hers, holding it while he turned to kiss it. "Liam," she admitted quietly, watching him consider the name. "Don't know why, never cared for the name before, but…"

"Liam Oswald," John said slowly, then he nodded and corrected, "Liam _Elliot_ Oswald, after your mum."

Clara shook her head, "That's not fair, if you can't…"

"She was your mum," he told her plainly. "Oswin was for you; Evan – because he couldn't be Eleven, that would be ridiculous – was for me; Elliot will be for your mum."

She sighed because he was right, and she sighed because he was staring up at her in adoration again and she never got tired of it. Even when she was mad at him for using a giant electromagnetic pulse gun in front of the children, or she was frustrated because he'd encouraged Henry to wear suspenders to school, or tired because he kept her up half the night excited about the progress of the tomatoes he'd left growing in the environment stabilizer still sitting in their yard.

"Liam Elliot Oswald," Clara repeated quietly, feeling the boy do a soft roll within her, as if pleased, and she laughed, laying a hand on her stomach to tell John, "I think he likes it."


	18. Chapter 18

Clara struggled to find a comfortable spot to fall asleep, even taking up more than half of the bed, even with the special pillow John got her off the internet, even with a back rub before he slowly fell asleep himself. She couldn't remember feeling this massive with the twins – and there had been two of them. She pushed herself up into a seated position and froze, hearing the floorboard creak in the hallway, turning swiftly to see John still lying next to her sleeping soundly. Taking a breath, she slipped off the bed quietly and moved to the door, glancing out to see the figure just outside of Henry's room, leaned in a familiar way on the door frame.

"How did you get in?" She asked in a whisper.

Head bowed bashfully, the Doctor looked back at her and admitted, "I still have the key."

She smiled, looking in on Olive before going to lean against the edge of the bathroom door, sighing up at him, "You shouldn't be doing this, you know."

He nodded, "The other day, in the park… I'd forgotten how much I loved watching them." Pushing a hand through the grey waves atop his head, he shifted to look at her in the darkness. "But I haven't forgotten how beautiful you are."

"Doctor," she warned.

"How are you, Clara?" And there was a laugh caught in his throat, a smile on his thin lips as he repeated her name, as though he missed the syllables in his mouth.

Hands coming to her stomach, she complained, "Pregnant. Incredibly so."

He nodded and sang, "Liam."

Raising an eyebrow at the way he'd said the name, Clara wondered if there other, less sizable pregnancies in her future, but she swallowed the question and nodded when he lifted a hand and motioned to her stomach. "He's moving a lot now," she told him honestly as he laid his fingers at her side, "Told you that this morning and you just chuckled."

"Because he's definitely my son," the Doctor replied as the boy obediently began to drum against Clara and she closed her eyes to smile, instantly feeling his lips meet hers. But he slipped back quickly with a simple apology. "It feels like it's been forever."

"How long has it been?" She asked absently, opening her eyes to look up at him as he clasped his hands together at his chest and looked to the ceiling before sadly lowering his glance to her again. This new man came with an older face, a sad face, and eyes like starlight.

He smiled, "You know I can't tell you that."

"Well then," she asked quickly, "How are you?"

There was a shrug and he pushed his lips together, considering an answer before settling on, "Fine, I guess. Keeping busy…"

"Galaxies to save," Clara teased.

He smiled, "Galaxies to save," he repeated.

"And you've taken a new companion?" She continued, then added, "Companions?" Not knowing how long it had been. It couldn't be too far into the future, she thought maybe she recognized the face from her jumble of memories from his time stream – she knew she'd caught a glimpse of things to come, but those had hidden themselves from her for both of their sakes.

With a nod, the Doctor allowed, "A girl – reminds me quite a bit of you – and she brought along her brother," he laughed, glancing in at Henry.

"You didn't," Clara spat instantly and he whipped his head around, seeing the dark eyes that widened and the look of terror that overtook the calmness in her features.

Raising his hands, the Doctor shook his head and spat, "No! No, NO! _Not them_." Clara seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and he was offended, playfully telling her, "You honestly think I would take Henry and Olive?"

With a shrug, she smirked at him, "You were never good about following orders."

"Oh," he smiled, "It was an order."

"It sure as hell wasn't a suggestion," Clara huffed.

They laughed together quietly before the Doctor nodded at her, "I just dropped them back off for the holidays, but I think they're quite done with the travelling."

"Are they?"

"Well," he started with a tilt of his head, "They got a bit eaten by a giant and then regurgitated – an experience like that tends to leave an impression."

"I imagine," Clara laughed, looking in on Henry and knowing he'd be absolutely thrilled to be spit up, but she also knew Olive would be disgusted. "Sometimes I feel guilty because I've kept them from a part of you, a beautiful part of you, having made you choose this life over the one you've known forever."

"No," he began. The Doctor shook his head and told her plainly, "You've kept them safe, Clara." He smiled then, "You kept me safe."

"But it was your life," she narrowed her eyes at him to continue, "And you were _good_ at it."

He tugged on the lapels of his dark grey coat, "Still am, if I do say so myself."

She smiled, "I bet you are."

Dropping his hands away, he shrugged, "Was considering a time alone, maybe take up a hobby for a bit – I oddly miss the down time."

Clara eyed him in amusement, "You miss the down time?"

With wide eyes, he explained, "Not that you were _down time_, per se, but, I miss having that time of not being in danger, not worrying about the universe, and just watching cartoons with my children, or finding those moments alone with you."

She watched his grin turn slightly devilish and she turned to her bedroom and blushed. Then she looked back and shook her head, "No, Doctor, you shouldn't be alone."

"I'm never really alone," he smiled. "Whole universe of peoples and places."

"And that's what makes you the loneliest," she lamented. "All of those peoples and places… and no family."

He sighed, "Clara, I have a family – it's right here."

"And you can't stay," she reminded, "John is in the bedroom; he'll wake up soon – do you remember having a conversation with yourself, late night, just before Liam was born?" She waited until he shook his head before telling him, "You have to maintain your timeline – _And I hope it was a good one_."

"It was brilliant," he raised his head to tell her proudly. "The time I had with you, they're the memories that keep the loneliness at bay. They're some of my most cherished."

Clara shook her head, "You need to find someone, Doctor. I don't want to worry about you."

He nodded slowly as she eyed him shyly.

"Matter of fact," Clara told him quietly, "There's a girl who comes around the shop quite a lot – I think you'd like her. Bit young, but she's tenacious and in need of a good adventure."

"Jaime," he smiled, nodding, "I remember you speaking of her."

Clara watched him look to the ground and she could see a sadness in his eyes, a sadness she hadn't seen in a long time. "Are you alright, Doctor?" Clara asked, shifting off the door frame to stand closer to him, her stomach touching his waist as she studied him. "Is there anything we can do?" She asked earnestly and his hand came up instantly to her cheek, tilting his head to grin down at her as the melancholy melted away.

With a shake of his head, he lamented, "I've just missed you; that's all."

Licking her lips, Clara nudged into his palm and reminded, "You can't cross your own time stream; you know how dangerous that can be."

He nodded and released her, stepping away, "It will be inevitable," he glanced into the bedroom at the man sleeping there, "He lives a long life."

"You," she pointed, "You live a long life," and she smiled at that assurance before meeting his eyes again and asking, "Were you happy?"

The chuckle that escaped him was easy and comfortable and she joined him as they stood in the hallway looking at one another nostalgically. "Clara, I was happy with you – I was always happy with you."

She nodded slowly, feeling an ache in her chest as she whispered, "Then you have to go."

The Doctor released a long sigh and turned, walking down the hallway and through the front door, locking it with his key. Clara stood silently in the hall, and then listened to the sound of the Tardis taking off with a smile before turning back to her bedroom and settling herself back down into the bed next to John. Shifting to face him, she nudged closer to him, taking hold of his hands and pressing her forehead against his before giving him a small kiss that woke him.

He hummed, eyes fluttering open to stare at her and she watched his lips curve up as he looked her over and Clara felt her eyes warm with tears. "You are a beautiful man," she told him calmly.

With a nod, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, his other hand dropping between them to slip underneath her stomach where Liam was now softly kicking. "I love you, too," John told her quietly with a kiss to her forehead.

Clara sighed against his chin and closed her eyes and she slept.


	19. Chapter 19

They stood just inside the front door, John with a gleeful look on his face and the children in shorts and flip flops, waiting while giving excited squeals every few seconds. But none would open the door. Clara laid her hands on her stomach and then gave her brow a rub before asking quietly, "When are we going?"

"It's snowing outside," Olive screamed, and they jumped at the sudden outburst, looking down at the girl whose eyebrows rose high as her cheeks reddened. And she giggled knowing what they were about to do was ridiculous.

Henry wrapped his hands over and over, blowing warmly into them, "We should make a run for it," he told his father, who held the tablet that controlled the environmental stabilizer in the front yard.

"Says the boy who can run," Clara teased, patting her belly and watching the threesome in front of her ignoring her and she sighed, imagining they'd make a run for it and she'd be left to close the door and carefully wade through the six inches of snow that had fallen unexpectedly overnight.

Straightening, John gave her a sympathetic look and he shifted back behind the children, picking up the picnic basket and tossing a blanket over Olive before typing on his screen and then telling them quietly, "_Geronimo_."

Clara laughed because both children shouted, "GERONIMO!" and Henry ripped open the door, releasing another yelp as he and Olive rushed out and slipped along the snow, falling on their knees with a set of hysterical giggles before making their way into the dome to land on the bed of thick green grass.

Raising an arm, John waited for Clara to take hold and they moved slower, Clara crunching over the snow in boots and once they were inside the dome, he sealed it and it instantly warmed. Slowly sitting, Clara looked out at the snow around them and she laughed just before Olive collapsed at her side, throwing an arm over her stomach to hug her and she bent to kiss the top of her daughter's head.

"Hello, mummy," the child whispered, tight lipped grin lighting up her face.

"Hello, bug," Clara responded, hand coming up to stroke through the girl's long hair. "How am I feeling today?" She asked her daughter.

Olive laughed knowingly, leaning her chin over her stomach before turning and laying her ear to it, listening for a moment and then chuckling because Liam had kicked at her cheek. "I think he wants to join us."

Sitting, John shook his head, "Two more months, remember?"

Olive frowned and lifted up, telling them both, "Why does it take so long to make babies?"

"All the parts on the inside," Henry offered with a shrug as he hopped sideways in circles around them before tripping over John's leg and landing behind him. Turning swiftly, John set himself on the boy, tickling him feverishly until Clara slapped his knee and then he lifted the boy into his lap to look at her. "But that's right, isn't it?" Henry asked.

John nodded slowly, "All of the parts need time to develop – really, they're not even ready when they emerge and that's why we have to be very careful with them."

"And we teach them," Olive offered.

"I can teach him how to walk," Henry told them with a nod, then his small face twisted as he asked, "Who taught us how to walk if we didn't have older brothers and sisters?"

John looked to Clara and told him plainly, "Your mum did."

"Is that why I fall all the time?" He replied.

With a laugh, John shook his head, "No, that would probably be my fault, but it's a bit early to start on genetics and inherent traits of clumsiness."

Olive shook softly with laughter against Clara and the woman heard her whisper, "Henry's _clumsy_."

Henry jumped up and went back to circling around them, finger held out against the dome to ensure he didn't run into it again, and Olive slipped away from Clara, climbing into John's lap to lie calmly against his chest. Clara watched her curiously as the girl leaned into him and smiled, passing a glance back at her. Henry began tapping them on the head as he passed, breathing, "Duck, Duck, Duck…"

And the girl giggled knowingly, looking again to Clara just before Henry tapped her and shouted, "Goose!" and rushed to the opposite side of the dome with a devilish look.

"Oh, that's not fair," Clara groaned at him.

"That's the game," Henry replied with a shrug and a wild smirk.

Standing slowly, Clara moved carefully around John and Olive as Henry rushed to fall into her spot and she laughed, touching John's head to tell him, "Aloofness isn't all he got." Then she walked a small circle around the dome, her own hand reaching out to feel the coolness of the glass against her skin before she looked back at Henry, now climbing closer to John.

"Daddy," he asked, "A farm is very large, isn't it?"

John nodded, "Very, they have to feed a lot of people."

Glancing up, Henry sighed, "If you make a large dome, like this one, over a farm, wouldn't the birds bump into it like I did?"

Olive turned, "Would that hurt the birds?"

Clara waited, smiling, as John considered it and then frowned, "That is quite a design flaw, isn't it."

"Couldn't it be a building?" Henry offered.

"Well," John shrugged, "We still need the sun's light to help the plants grow and the circular design is better suited to withstand environmental forces, it also amplifies the processing of the…" he trailed, watching Henry's brow drop slightly before he told him, "Buildings tend to be quite square and blech."

Henry laughed at the face John made and the odd squished gesture his hands came up into.

Olive shrugged, "Couldn't it look like the monkey bars on the school yard?"

He straightened and looked down at her in surprise, "A semi-transparent climbing frame built over the outer structure to increase visibility, but not obstruct the necessary sunlight – Olive, _that's brilliant_."

Clara laughed, "She _is_ my daughter."

He smirked up at her as she held back a laugh.

Olive glanced sideways when Henry sat atop John's legs and informed him, "The birds will land on that though; they'll poop all over it."

Scoffing at him, John informed him, "They'd poop on it anyways – besides, I'd rather have to wash the poop than scrape a bird off of it."

Both children made faces of disgust that Clara laughed at. Then John mirrored the looks they were giving him and they dissolved into giggles before Olive inched up and kissed his cheek, telling him quietly, "Thank you, daddy."

"What for, Olive?" He chuckled back lightly.

She shrugged and touched his chest before grinning up at him and laying her head back against him with a sigh and Clara understood – Olive could feel the singularity of the moment; that jumbled mess inside of his head slowing to a stop to admire his children. She could feel his love for them. Raising his eyes to meet hers, John beckoned Clara over as he lifted his leg slightly and the twins dropped off, reaching for the picnic basket to begin searching for their sandwiches and juice boxes.

Clara reached out for John's hand and she settled herself between his legs, resting her back to his chest and smiling when his hands came around her and curved themselves around her belly as he kissed her temple. "Clara Oswald," he whispered as she turned to look up at him, "So much bigger on the inside."

She laughed, hearing his voice automatically inside of her head – the long and loving speech about how she could create and carry lives, _awe inspiring little lives_ that were worlds upon themselves. Lives she'd nourished and comforted and formed with a careful hand and a loving heart. Of course he'd give her the credit, not understanding just how much he had to offer. Because Clara thought about it, every single day, how much their children were flourishing with him in their lives.

Giving both of his thighs a rub, Clara watched Henry and Olive eating calmly on the crumpled picnic blanket while they discussed their classmates and how much they were looking forward to Christmas. Henry had adopted his flair for wild hand gestures and Olive's smile had gone from a shy grin to a gaping laugh and the imaginations Clara had already known were lively and intuitive were more readily expressed. Henry's artwork – _his ideas _– weren't hidden away in his room, but shared in class and taped up about the house and Olive had started telling stories. Quietly at first, whispered to Clara when they had '_girls only_' tea time with her dolls, like a secret, but now she aspired to write adventures that her brother could illustrate.

Clara's hands met his and she smiled when Liam kicked, hearing the chuckle at her ear and she sighed. "I could get used to this."

He leaned his chin into her head. "Being pregnant?" He teased.

With a bellow of a laugh, she squeezed his hand and nodded to the twins, "Remember when our lives were always a mess of catastrophe marked by small victories?"

"Now we revel in the small victories every day," he told her knowingly, eyes on the two children now laughing openly as they discussed the things they hoped to share with their brother. Something that seemed to include how to steal cookies from the kitchen without their mother knowing.

Clara shifted up as John leaned down to kiss her and she smiled when Liam gave her a rough kick at her side, seeing John's eyes widen as his mouth formed an 'o' of amused surprise. "Another small victory," she sighed.

"Quite a strong one," he laughed, his fingers fanning out over her stomach to feel the baby inside of her thumping away just underneath. Then he sighed as he watched her stare up at him, admitting, "Sometimes it feels like this is a wonderful dream I'm going to wake up from."

"Back in the Tardis," Clara admitted with a nod, seeing the curious stare, "I think that sometimes myself."

With a tilt of his head, he offered, "We should consider ourselves lucky then." John smiled and told her quietly, "A never-ending dream, Clara. Every morning waking up from one dream to the next; one adventure to another; and two small victories fighting over which cereal to eat."

He furrowed his brow a moment before joining in on her laughter.


	20. Chapter 20

John stood on a ladder holding a string of lights, staring at them awkwardly and wishing he had his Sonic on him as one flickered and went out. Tapping it with a gloved hand he listened as Henry sniggered below before he hung it on a hook and turned to look at him.

"Is it on straight?" He called.

Henry tilted his head, squinting his eyes as his arms came up, swinging wide before flying down to his hips to nod proudly, "Looks about right."

Climbing back down, he stood next to his son, examining his handy work – the strung Christmas lights about the house and the lit up plastic Santa that stood on the roof next to the chimney. "What'd you think? Think your mum'll like it?"

With a shrug, Henry responded, "Only things mum likes these days is eating and sleeping."

"Oi," John responded, "Respect your mum."

Holding out a hand, Henry suddenly widened his eyes and barked, "Sorry, dad, I do! You know I do, but…" he trailed, turning away shyly as John bent to encourage him, and he offered, "I miss playing with her – we used to play, rolling about and being silly and she's too tired to do that now."

With a sigh of understanding, John lifted him up against him, grunting slightly to ask, "Have you grown again – you're doing the growing thing again, aren't you?"

Henry giggled.

"Gonna pass your sister soon," he sighed, then admitted, "She'll probably be short, like mum."

The boy's cheeks reddened as he continued to laugh guiltily. "Will I be tall, like you?" Henry asked, then added, "I'd like to be taller than the other boys in school."

Poking his stomach, John nodded, "_Well_, you'll probably be tall, but incredibly _awkward_."

"Awkward," Henry considered, then gave him a shake of his head, "I know what that means – I'm already awkward, I just want to be tall."

Smiling, John hugged him tightly, shifting back to share a smile of appreciation before moving into the house where Clara was working on the Christmas tree with Olive. They both wore the same considerate expressions – right sides of their bottom lips held between their teeth as their brows furrowed in concentration. He let Henry slide to the ground and cleared his throat, watching both girls turn towards them and his smile faded into an exhale of admiration.

"_Blimey_, you look like mum," Henry exclaimed, watching Olive smirk as she glanced up at the woman now grinning down at her.

Olive gestured at the tree, "We're almost done." She waited for Henry to come to her side to start showing off the ornaments they'd made over the years hanging about.

Walking towards her, John smiled, one hand immediately at the side of her stomach, the other pushing its way into her hair and he kissed her. Not the ordinary every day kiss she'd gotten used to from him, but the deeper kiss he reserved for when the children were asleep. Clara slipped back after a moment and stared into his eyes, the question in hers easily palpable – _are you alright_? With a shy grin, he nodded and looked to Henry and Olive, now examining their presents underneath the tree.

"No shaking the gifts," John called out, his left hand falling on Clara's shoulder as the other fell loosely to his side and he laughed when they both jumped up and dropped the presents.

Henry stood slowly and pulled his coat off, telling them all, "I'm going to the boy's room," just before dropping the coat to the ground and then walking sluggishly into the hallway.

"Hey," Clara called after him, but he was already swinging around the doorframe into his bedroom as Olive lifted his coat to hand to her. She glanced at John, who nodded shortly and moved into the hall, shrugging out of his own coat and letting it drop in the hall. "Really?" Clara muttered, stepping towards the offending piece of clothing Olive was rushing to pick up.

"Boys," Olive spat for her as she laughed.

John entered the room and found Henry throwing himself into the top bunk. His entire room had been re-arranged and the bottom bunk had been replaced by Henry's dresser and a small hamper so that a crib could sit on the opposite wall. Climbing up the first two rungs of the ladder, he looked down at his son, lying on his back, staring up at the roof, and he asked quietly, "Are you still upset about the room?"

The boy shrugged, "We got a bigger car; can't we have a bigger house?"

With a laugh, John replied, "Bigger house costs a bit much more than the car."

Henry sighed.

"I thought you were excited to be a big brother."

He looked at him and raised his gloved hands, dropping them back to allow, "I was. _I am_." He shifted to lean on his elbow and meet his father's eyes, "I will be?"

John touched his cheek softly and nodded, "Do you know what's the best thing about sharing a room with your brother?"

He shrugged.

"You're the older one."

Henry considered it, watching his father.

"He'll love me and your mum, and he'll love your sister, but you'll be the one he looks up to," John touched his nose, "When he has questions and when he needs advise, or when he just wants to play – you'll be the one he'll go to because you'll be his favorite."

"How d'you know that?"

He smiled, "I just do."

"Daddy," Henry started quietly. "Am I _your_ favorite?"

Settling his arms on the bed, John sighed, pushing the bangs off the boys forehead and told him, "I'm a dad, I'm not supposed to have favorites." Then he glanced back towards the door before grinning at Henry, "But quite truthfully, your mum's my favorite."

Henry laughed, nodding, "She's my favorite too."

"She's probably all of our favorites – she does have that effect," he sighed with a smile. Then John inched up to kiss his cheek, "But you and Liam – you'll bond in a special way. You'll be here when he cries, the first to console him on many occasions, and you'll be the one to make him laugh." He watched the boy consider his words. "Henry, when Liam looks to you, there will be no fear in his heart, no doubt in his mind, because he'll know his big brother is around – you'll give him assurance, make him feel safe in the darkest times in life, and one day he'll thank you. _Quietly_. And you'll know exactly why."

Lowering his head slightly, Henry shook hair away from his brow and looked to the hall to smile at his mother leaned against the frame. Then he turned to his father and whispered, "What if I'm not good at it? What if I'm rubbish…"

"Do you love Liam?" John interrupted. "Love him with all of your heart?"

"Yes," Henry nodded vehemently.

"Then you'll be brilliant at it."

He shifted back when he felt the small body climbing around him and he placed a protective hand at Olive's back when she stopped to lean against the top rung of the ladder. The girl sighed at him and admitted, "You're not a rubbish brother, Henry. I like you just fine."

Glancing sideways, he admitted, "I suppose I like you just fine as well."

Olive sighed and looked up at John to ask, "Will Liam not like me because I'm a girl?"

Clara stifled a laugh and John shook his head, telling her plainly, "You'll frustrate him with your mothering, but when he's hurting, he'll seek comfort in you. When he's tired he'll find your hand and know you'll lead him right." John smiled down at the large eyes that looked up expectantly. "Olive, he'll love you."

"How do you know?" She questioned, just like her brother had and John couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him as his eyes lowered momentarily.

"I know he'll love you because of how much I love you and how much I look to you both to fill my heart with your smiles and tickle my ears with your tales." He reached out to lay a hand at Henry's side and dropped a kiss against Olive's forehead. "If you give Liam an ounce of the happiness you give me, he would be the luckiest boy in the universe."

Olive climbed up into the bunk bed and laid beside her brother, taking his gloved hand to hold and John smiled, then turned, expecting to see Clara, but she was no longer at the door. With a frown, he moved down the steps and glanced into their bedroom, but she wasn't there either. He moved through the house slowly until he found himself looking out at her, standing just outside the door in the kitchen. He pushed out, shivering instantly against the frozen air as he stepped up beside her.

There were tears on her face when she smiled up at him and he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and grinning when she shifted sideways to accommodate her oversized belly. "What's wrong?" He asked quietly. He could feel her shake her head against his chest and he smiled, kissing her and repeating, "No, it's something – what it is?"

"Do you think they were this unsure, when it was just me?"

Stepping back, he looked down at the sadness in her eyes as he said her name.

Clara looked back at the home, "I did everything I could to try and make them feel safe and loved, but Olive could feel my sadness and Henry could sense her wariness – and maybe there were moments where _they didn't know_… where they were _unsure of me_ because I was missing you."

"Clara," he sighed, taking her face in his hands, "No, Clara, they were _never_ unsure of you." He laughed, "Remember when you said," he looked away at the memory, knowing the event had occurred just a few feet away, "When you told me I wanted them to be mine, _before I even knew they were_ – it was because the three of you, you were this impossible family, so full of love for one another that I wanted you all for my own. I wanted you, and I wanted them – I wanted to be included in your family, Clara, because seeing you three made me understand the emptiness I had in my hearts could be filled by the superfluity of love you had for each other."

She nodded slowly as he wiped away the frozen teardrops on her cheeks and she smiled when he placed a gentle kiss against her lips. "We healed your hearts," she teased.

He shook his head and smiled down at her, telling her quietly, "You are my heart." With a nod, he confident explained, "They will always be sure of you, Clara, just as sure as you will always love them."

She laughed, raggedly, and asked, "How did I do this without you?"

"Bravely," he nodded, "Strongly," he continued. "With all of your heart."

"And now I have yours," she told him, hand coming up to touch the spot on his chest.

John grinned and teased, "Two hearts for them – perfectly Time Lord."

With a laugh, Clara glanced to the door, "We should get back in, your tiny Time Lords are probably checking on their presents again."

They shared a quiet chuckle before turning back to the house. And sure enough, both children were planted beside the Christmas tree with a box in each hand.


	21. Chapter 21

Removing the turkey in their oven, John smiled – he'd finally gotten the hang of this cooking thing, or at least the way humans did it. And, looking at the soufflé that sat cooling on the counter, he passed a glance towards the living room with a chuckle – Clara had finally figured out her mother's recipe. He turned to look over the dining room table and the six placemats, listening for the door because he knew Clara had sat down with the children to color and she wouldn't be able to get back up without him.

"Everything's fine, Doc," Jack told him calmly, gesturing at the turkey, "It actually looks pretty good, I'm surprised."

He tugged at the collar of the white button up shirt that sat under a bright red sweater with Santa's face embroidered onto the front and he looked up at the man who was wearing, pretty much, what he wore every day. With a scowl, he teased, "Don't you ever dress up for an occasion?"

"Why," Jack responded with a shrug, before nodding at him, "I'll dress up for your wedding, how's that?"

John smiled and bowed his head, "That would be brilliant."

They'd decided to marry in the spring. On the anniversary of his return.

"John," Clara called. "No, _no_!" She shouted.

He was momentarily alarmed, but then he heard the second knock at the front door and the stampede of steps rushing towards it, glancing up in time to see Henry pull the door open. Dave gaped in at them, an odd sack hanging over his shoulder before he moved inside and hugged the duo now clinging to his waist and hopping up and down excitedly.

"Are those our presents?" Henry asked loudly as Dave settled the bag just inside the living room.

"Grandpa, daddy didn't burn the turkey!" Olive announced.

Dave looked into the kitchen as John moved a small salad to the table. "All's well in there?" He raised a hand to Jack, who nodded in response. "Good to see you, Captain."

"Always a pleasure, sir," Jack told him calmly.

"Stop," John muttered.

LIfting his hands, Jack spat back, "Seriously, that wasn't even…" he threw his hands down and walked past him, going to offer Clara a hand so she could stand to greet her father.

Clara smiled into the man's embrace and when she stepped back, he held her by her stomach and eyed her curiously, "Did you make sure there was only one baby in there, Clara?"

She laughed, stepping into the kitchen to retrieve a small slip of paper to hand him, showing off the child's grey profile on which she could already see her nose and puckered lips on her son. "One, they counted three times on my insistence."

"But you're massive," Dave retorted, brow furrowing.

"Thanks, dad," Clara replied eagerly, making her way back into the kitchen to check on the progress only to find it had all been taken care of. She eyed John as he settled forks and knives next to the plates and he winked at her, coming back to start pouring drinks.

Dave nodded up at him, "You takin' care of her?"

With a playful smack to her father's arm, Clara cried, "Dad, don't."

But John shook his head, moving to the table with the first set of glasses, "Instructions for the laundry have been taped up in the laundry room to ensure I don't ruin another blouse," he came back and nodded, "Perfected the cooking with my two junior chefs," he smiled to Henry and Olive who were running to their places at the table.

"Won't let me pick up a thing around here," Clara told him.

Jack shifted forward to allow, "That man has learned to fold clothes, sir." He scoffed and then added, "And when I got here, he was giving the living room another once over with a vacuum – I swear I checked to make sure it was actually him."

Sighing, Clara told her father, "As an adult, I'm being told to take naps."

John looked to Clara, eyebrows rising slightly to tell her, "Sorry, you've got to put your feet up at the end of a long day."

"And he rubs them," Clara informed her father, who nodded agreeably.

"He makes us take baths too early," Henry shot.

"But he gets the nice smelling shampoo at the market," Olive countered.

Dave laughed, stepping forward to help John with the glasses. He nudged him with his elbow and gave him a nod and a small smile of appreciation before they moved together to the table. "Are you two ready for Christmas?" Dave asked the children, who both nodded and giggled.

"They've got a plan to catch Santa in the act," Clara informed him, "Apparently it involves a portable camera and a motorized toy car."

"Mum," Henry hissed, "Don't say it aloud – _he can probably hear you_."

She exchanged a smile with John, then nodded to Henry and whispered, "Sorry, shutting it about the plan." Clara pretended to zip her lips before she unzipped them and admitted as she sat, "Let's not get drastic, mummy has to eat. Ooooh," she groaned and all men stood, faces frozen in shock.

"What?" Henry asked.

Waving a hand at them all, she touched her stomach and explained, "He's kicking _really_ hard." She caught Olive's eyes, the odd anxiety behind them, but before she could question it, John was asking for her plate.

Before long they were staring at empty plates and passing Christmas crackers around the table, laughing each time one got popped open between two of them to spill their contents onto the table. Clara laughed when Henry pushed a pink crown onto his head with a grimace and John handed her his own blue one, smiling at her when she laid it atop her stomach.

The children watched, enraptured, as Jack and John relived Christmases from long ago, and Dave laughed at the duo more than Clara had seen him laugh in years. She touched his hand, then grasped it within hers and laid it on her stomach when Liam began to pummel her regularly as she watched John explain how sharks and fish from an alien planet used the atmosphere like water.

She felt the arm wrap around her and she fell into her father's side easily, letting her head settle on his shoulder as he kissed her temple and told her quietly, "Glad to see you so happy."

Glancing up at him, she smiled and looked down at her stomach, feeling the boy there quieting down and she whispered back, "Was going to say the same to you."

"Are you ready for him?" He asked her.

She nodded, "Mostly ready."

He laughed, "Mostly?"

"A little scared," she admitted.

"What's there to be scared of, Clara?"

Licking her lips, she looked up at John, now encouraging the children to sing Christmas carols for them as they danced in their chairs. "Everything's perfect, dad," she admitted, "Having a new baby…" she sighed up at him and he understood – she was afraid things would change too much.

Dave bent slightly, so that only Clara could hear, and he admitted, "He's a good man, Clara."

"I know," she replied on a breath.

Then she chuckled and nodded up at him, realizing that small twinge of fear in the back of her mind was nonsensical – and she understood what that fear was: he'd leave her again if it became too much. But maybe there was no such thing as _too much_ with John. She watched him as he turned to grin at her, mouth widening into a laugh and he encouraged her to sing along as he shouted from behind his twins until he was red in the face.

They managed to find space for dessert and the children convinced them to let them open two presents apiece before they agreed to take baths and ready themselves for bed. Clara's father stood near the door, watching John as he tinkered with the remote control car that sat, a small camera affixed to the top, half hidden by presents under the tree.

"He's put together an outfit, red pants and boots, and plans to place their presents down while wearing it so they believe they've caught a glimpse of the real Santa," Clara whispered to her father.

With a nod, Dave pulled her into a hug and when he released her, he held her hands, looking down at her stomach before laughing, "Next Christmas, we'll have Liam crawling about – that's definitely something to look forward to."

"Dad," she urged, "Come tomorrow morning – we always open presents together."

He shook his head, "Tomorrow is his day," he nodded to John, who stood and glanced down at the camera, trying to discern the angle so he wouldn't reveal himself. "Tomorrow is your first Christmas together… as a family."

"And you should be here," she pleaded.

"Clara," he smiled, touching her cheek, "I'll be by, I promise, but let tomorrow morning be his Christmas with you and the children." He laughed lightly and his hands slid away as he exited the house. Clara sighed as she watched him climb into his car and drive away, shivering before she shut the door and turned to watch John rush down the hall and then clamber back with his fuzzy red pants and the oversized galoshes.

"Bring me presents," he told her giddily, voice hushed to avoid being picked up by the camera.

They slowly dropped the gifts in piles near the tree from their hiding place in the attic and then John came to stand in front of her, bending to kiss her stomach and then grin up at her before she grabbed hold of the sweater he wore to bring his lips up to hers. She laughed into his mouth and admitted, "I'm feeling naughty."

"Clara!" he gasped.

She released an unexpected giggle and pulled him down the hallway and into their bedroom, closing and locking the door before turning back to him to tug at the red pants. "How do you get these off!" She hissed and he bent slightly in response.

"Clara!" he repeated on a laugh, hands taking her shoulders. "You're eight months pregnant."

She nodded, staring at him incredulously.

"You should be resting."

"Feeling kind of a surge of energy right now, actually," she grinned deviously at him, and then her eyebrows rose as she popped the button on his pants, dropping them to his ankles. "Gotcha."

He shook his head, chuckling when she slipped her hands underneath his shirt as he awkwardly shook his feet out of the mess of boots and pants. John watched as she pulled the dress she wore over her head, tossing it down, before quickly ridding herself of her bra and knickers and he swallowed roughly when she approached him, standing on tip toe to kiss his neck before he breathed, "You should be off your feet."

Rounding her body, he placed his hands at her waist and urged her to the bed and she climbed in beneath the covers, smiling back at him when he nudged himself against her, curling his frame around hers, and began to drop kisses against her bare back. His right hand roamed over her body before he rested it against her stomach and sighed into her skin.

"Are you sure about this?" John asked tentatively, but she was already curving her backside into him seductively, turning her head to catch his lips as her fingertips grazed his chin.


	22. Chapter 22

"Santa came! _Santa came_!"

The words elicited small chuckles from both parents as they snuggled closer together, just waiting for the door to burst open and the two children to come bouncing onto their bed. Henry flew up onto his father and Olive carefully pulled herself up onto the bed at Clara's feet, waiting until her mother sat up to slip up closer to her, giving her another odd look that gave Clara a pang of anxiety before she raised her arms towards the girl.

"Daddy, there are presents as big as me," Henry shrieked, "And loads of little ones scattered about."

Olive crawled into Clara's lap and laid her head down to whisper, "Mummy, do you think Santa brought the dollhouse I asked for?"

Rubbing her arm and kissing the top of her head, Clara offered, "Why don't we go open the presents and find out?"

Henry shot off the bed as John laughed, turning to catch Clara's small shake of the head as Olive bounced her way over the sheets and slipped to the ground, rushing to join her brother. John reached up, cupping Clara's cheek in his palm, and she gave him a tired grin. "Merry Christmas, Clara," he sighed.

She inched closer to him, settling a small kiss on his lips before replying, "Merry Christmas, John."

"_Mummy! Daddy! Get out here so we can open presents_!" Henry hollered as they laughed.

John threw the sheets back and stood, turning to see Clara wince as she shifted herself to his side of the bed, letting her legs hang over a moment as she rubbed at her back. He bent slightly, one hand finding her shoulder to squeeze until her eyes opened slowly and she glanced up at him with a weak smile.

"You alright?" He asked cautiously.

With a nod, she allowed, "Maybe last night wasn't such a good idea."

He frowned.

"Not your fault," Clara laughed. "My idea."

Helping her off the bed, he dropped his hands to her sides as they walked to the living room together and made their way to the couch, sitting slowly and looking to the duo examining their gifts. They were shaking the smaller ones and trying to lift the larger ones and John raised his arms, declaring, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Clara picked her camera up off the coffee table and handed it to him with a simple, "Would you?"

He glanced back at her curiously as she struggled to find comfort in the cushions she sat on, hands absently working circles at the underside of her belly. He turned when he heard the ripping and laughed when Henry gawked at a model spaceship, raising it to show him and shout incoherently about mounting a camera and flying it into the atmosphere. Olive was more tentative with her wrapping, stripping it carefully and letting each piece fall in a pile before she hugged the dollhouse and looked to Clara.

"He brought it; _Santa brought it_!" Olive gasped.

With a nod, Clara told her, "I told you he would."

"Do you think there are new dolls, mummy?"

Lifting her chin to the boxes, Clara replied, "Why don't you open some more and find out?"

Olive hesitated, brow furrowing as Henry tore into a second and third package beside her, but she looked back at her gifts and began to work her way through them. John eyed the girl who continuously glanced back at her mother – the worry in her small face marring the joy at the five new dolls, their new horse, the assortment of outfits and accessories, and a pink doll-sized version of their new SUV. He understood without asking when he passed a quick look at the woman smiling down at her children with tears threatening to spill over.

She'd never been able to buy them the things that they'd wanted. Clara had tried over the years, her father had helped, but aside from one specially-saved-for gift for each of them, she'd made it a priority to get clothes and supplies for school. John snapped a photo of Henry showing Olive a small kit for making his own robot and Olive explained the ink and quill set they'd ordered for the girl with her name etched into the stationary.

"Fancy," Henry teased.

Olive gave him a playful shove and they both went towards a larger box with both of their names on it, glancing back at their parents before they both scratched at the paper until it tore. John sat next to Clara, hand landing delicately on her right knee and she leaned her head into his shoulder, kissing it before resting her cheek to it and she laughed when the children began screeching about the swing set. Clara lifted her head to look at John, one eyebrow rising slightly.

"You still think I can't put that together," he scoffed.

She laughed and shook her head, "I think dad'll have to help you."

He smiled, "Then we'll build it together."

Clara gave a shout of surprise when she felt Henry collide with her knees as he pointed back and asked loudly, "When do we get to put it together; can we do it today?" He turned, "Daddy, can I help?"

With a small nod of his head, he replied, "When grandpa gets here, we'll head out to start straight away."

"In the snow?" Clara laughed.

Henry and John nodded, both giving her identical stares, as if she'd lost her mind suggesting they wait for the snow to melt away. _That_ – she knew they were thinking – _could take months_. Olive came casually to stand in front of John and she held a small box in her hands.

"Are you sure this is mine?" She asked, finger tracing over her name on the label tied securely around the object.

Henry's made a noise of surprise and rushed back into the pile, tossing aside wrapping before pulling out a small box of his own and rushing back, declaring, "I have one too."

"What could be in a box so small?" Olive asked.

Henry smiled, "Well, daddy's box was quite small and he could fit the world inside."

John pulled Olive up into his lap as Henry climbed onto the sofa next to Clara, nudging himself into her as she wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. "Go on," she encouraged, "These are special gifts from your father."

Unlike the fervor to open their other gifts, these were held a moment longer, examined quietly before the ribbons were undone, carefully, and the boxes were pried open with a small whine of the metal coils holding them shut. Henry's lips turned up slightly, thoughtfully, as he popped the small gold watch out of its case and slipped it onto his wrist, working at the clasp a moment before it snapped and he continued staring down at it, fingers working their way over the face.

Olive delicately removed the necklace, with its own small round clock pendant, and she held it between her thumb and fore finger, then looked up at John and asked, "Are you sure they're for us?"

"Why wouldn't they be?" John asked.

Henry breathed lightly, "They look expensive," and he glanced up bashfully at Clara, "What if I break it?"

His concern was honest and she shook her head at him, "Don't worry, these are pretty hard to break."

John turned the pendant over in Olive's hand and he gestured at the intertwined circles and dots there, nodding and telling them quietly, "They each have your name in the language of my people – Gallifreyan."

"Daddy," Olive called, "Can we learn to talk Gallifreyan?"

"Absolutely," he smiled, taking the necklace from her as she lifted her hair and he placed it around her neck, hand falling against her back. She kissed his cheek and then slid off his knee to reach for her mother as Henry moved around her to climb into his father's lap.

He laid his head against the man's chest and allowed him to remove the watch to show him his own name inscribed on the inside backing. Henry giggled at it and told him, "I like this writing."

Clara grunted as she helped Olive sit on her lap, smiling when the girl hugged her belly and rested her head atop it, closing her eyes. Glancing up at John, she asked quietly, "Breakfast?"

He smiled and nodded, standing and lifting Henry with him as the boy replaced the watch on his wrist as John asked, "Help with the breakfast or play with your new toys?"

Henry's lips crushed together and Clara laughed at his dilemma, watching the guilty face that turned to John and admitted, "Play with the new toys."

With a laugh, he lowered him back to the ground and shuffled his way into the kitchen, hands rubbing together in a way that made Clara nervous. She chuckled as Olive's head came up and the girl sighed, telling her plainly, "Liam's ready, I think."

"Ready?" Clara asked, hand coming up to stroke through the mess of hair atop her daughter's head.

She seemed confused as she explained, "He's being very still; very quiet. I think he's a little afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Clara prompted calmly, touching the girl's cheek with her thumb.

Shrugging, Olive replied, "I don't know."

With a shake of her head, Clara nodded to the toys, "He's resting – and I'd say it's about time, he wouldn't let mummy sleep all night." She watched the large dark eyes that came up to study her before adding, "It's fine, go on and play, sweetheart."

Olive made her way to her new dolls, momentarily eyeing Henry as he smashed two trucks together and made loud clashing sounds and she shook her head before she began a conversation between a set about how boys are so violent. Clara chuckled to herself, hands coming to rest atop her stomach as she considered Olive's words and shifted again on the couch, muscles sore from arching her back into John. With a smile, cheeks burning red, Clara pushed the recent memory of his right arm wrapped securely around her just underneath her breasts as he breathed into her ear roughly on each curved thrust of his pelvis into her to the furthest reaches of her mind as she watched her children play.

She imagined next Christmas, the baby boy who would be so close to his first steps babbling about between his two older siblings. Clara sighed happily, watching Olive cradle her doll as Henry peered into the crevices of one of the trucks, just looking for a way to take it apart. She could smell pancakes from the kitchen and she looked to the fireplace as she shivered slightly, shifting to the edge of the couch to try and stand because a warm fire crackling would be soothing.

And she was caught off guard by a hard contraction that landed her back into the cushions on her backside, eyes pinching shut as she called out, "_John_, _ring my dad_."

Feeling the two small sets of hands now searching her knees and shoulders, Clara smiled and took several long breaths as she heard John approaching swiftly, felt his breath in her face as he asked, "Clara, why, are you alright?"

Slowly she looked up at him and she told him calmly, "Olive was right; Liam's ready."


	23. Chapter 23

John stood beside her bed, her right hand held tightly within his and he watched the knuckles of her left go white as she gripped the sheets and breathed through another contraction. They'd never gotten around to taking classes. It was all he could think, watching her brow smooth as her body relaxed, and he felt horrible for not having pursued it further after she'd laughed and told him, "_John, I had twins – I don't need some class to tell me how to breathe_."

"Go tell them I'm fine," Clara managed.

"No," John shook his head, "They know you're fine."

Her eyes met his and they pleaded with him before she explained, "Olive can probably feel this," she touched her chest with her free hand, "She can feel that I'm terrified – _I don't want my baby girl afraid, John_. _Please_."

With a small nod of understanding, he embraced the back of her head, holding her a moment between his lips and his fingers before slipping away, rushing out to find the waiting room where Dave instantly stood up and took a step towards him. He tried to smile calmly, nodding shortly before looking to the children who had been seated on either side of their grandfather and John could see Clara had been right. Olive's eyes were bloodshot red, stark against the sickly shade of grey her skin had gone and she was trembling and when John reached for her, she leapt into his arms gripping him tightly.

"Oh, Olive, _I'm so sorry_," he whispered. "I didn't realize."

Dave shook his head, touching John's shoulder to ask quietly, "Didn't realize what?"

Glancing up, John explained, "Because of me, because of who I was…" he looked to Olive and then admitted, "Olive is empathic… and she can feel her mother."

The color drained from Dave's face as he whimpered, "Is my Clara alright?"

John stood, still gripping the girl to him and he nodded, "She asked me to come out and assure her." Pulling Olive away, he touched his forehead to hers, seeing the closed eyes and the tears that now fell freely over her cheeks, "Olive, your mum is afraid – having a baby is scary and it hurts – but your mum is fine; she asked me to tell you that she's going to be just fine."

"Mummy is so frightened," Olive moaned, shaking her head against his, and he could almost feel her mind working, trying to find the right way to describe it and she simply cried.

Guiltily, he lowered her back into a seat and knelt in front of her, closing his own eyes and wishing he could take what she was feeling away from her so she wouldn't have to suffer because of him. He held her hands and told her quietly, "Olive, your mummy is going to be fine, you have to believe me."

"Dad," Henry called softly, hand on his shoulder, and John looked to him as he nodded to Olive. Henry slipped between the two and he took his sister's hands, whispering, "Am I afraid, Olive?"

The girl's sobs slowed and she considered him, brow furrowing as he stood firmly in front of her. "You're…" she started, before looking up at him, "You're Henry."

He smiled, nodding, then repeated the question, "But am I afraid, Olive?"

Shaking her head slightly, Olive replied, "You're too many things."

"Yeah, like you always say: _all jumbled up_," he teased, then bent slightly, telling her as if it were a secret, "Feel what I'm feeling, Olive – tell me what I'm feeling."

John stood, looking down at his children: at his son, so suddenly still and solemn and strong and his daughter searching for that anchor in the midst of the storm and finding it in her brother. Olive's breathing slowed and she smiled and her eyes opened.

"You feel calm," she whispered so quietly only Henry could hear.

Bending further, he told her, "Because mum is going to be fine."

Dave touched John's elbow and he jumped slightly, turning to find Clara's father smiling at him and nodding to them, "Son, you fault yourself so often for the bad, I think sometimes you forget the good you have to offer as well."

With a shy grin, John looked to them and then back at Dave and repeated, "Son?"

"Don't get cocky," Dave warned before looking down the hall, "Go to her."

He glanced once more at the two children now smiling at one another calmly and then he broke into a run back towards the delivery room, bursting in and finding her looking up at him apprehensively as he explained, "She could; Henry fixed; your dad called me son."

"Ah, good, and ok," she replied just as swiftly.

"You've got another one coming," a nurse offered and John moved back to his spot at her side, raising his hand instinctively as hers came up for him and he rubbed at her back with his other hand, watching her eyes close and her lips purse as she steeled herself.

John wasn't sure what to expect. He'd seen quite a few births, but more often than not in the past twelve hundred years, they'd been alien. It'd been a very long time since he'd witnessed a human, or even a Gallifreyan, giving birth. And it felt like an eternity since he held his own child in his arms. He felt his chest contract because he could still remember the face on that newborn baby and the way the child had gurgled up at him knowingly.

Were humans as intuitive?

He thought back to the moment he held Henry and Olive in that hospital nursery, before he knew they were his children, and the way they'd looked at him. With a laugh, he considered that he should have known then, how they had watched him with earnest eyes and how they cried with longing when he left. How those small cries had torn at his soul. And it struck him, suddenly, that he had been able to see his children as infants, at least that one time, and he could recall every small detail on those tiny chubby faces.

Clara gave his hand a squeeze and when he looked to her, he could see the concern in her eyes and he kissed her lightly, whispering, "Are you ready?"

She laughed, pressing her warm forehead into his cheek a moment before pulling back and telling him with a wide smile and tearful eyes, "_Geronimo_."

Carefully climbing onto the bed, he slipped behind her so she could lean into his chest and he reached out his hands so she could intertwine her fingers with his. Neither of them, he knew, was really ready, but it was ok because they had one another. He chuckled into her ear as she rested her head on his collar and he kissed her temple, looking down at the nurses prepping her for delivery.

It was almost time and he felt himself overwhelmed with emotions and for a moment, he hoped Olive could feel him the way she felt her mother. He hoped, somehow, Henry could as well. Because he didn't think what he felt for them all could get any better than what he was feeling in that moment. His wife, cradled against him, only moments from giving him a third unexpected child; his children waiting just outside to get their first glimpse of their younger brother.

His family, whole and together and happy.

"Hey, Clara," he sighed, watching the nurse at his side nodding because Clara was about to experience another contraction.

"Hey," she breathed in response, feeling the muscles in her body working painfully to ready the boy inside of her.

"We're having another baby," he laughed.

Clara winced as he held her hands and they both knew, by the way everyone else in the room was suddenly a flurry of movement and quiet discussion, that any minute now they'd be telling her to push. Any minute now they'd be seeing Liam for the first time with their own eyes. She relaxed against him and grinned up at him with tired, but satisfied, eyes.

"That we are," she replied quietly.

"Clara," the doctor called, "Next contraction, I'm going to need you to push, ok?"

She nodded and when she exhaled, her breath was ragged and her body shook slightly against his. John moved his hands to her stomach, feeling it tight beneath his fingers and Clara placed her hands atop his and she braced herself. He could feel her body tense and could only imagine what she was feeling and for a moment he considered how she'd been without him in these moments with Olive and Henry and how she must have hoped he'd turn up to hold her hand and tell her he was there.

He blinked and found himself looking into her dark eyes as she nodded and admitted knowingly, "I was afraid, when you weren't here. But I had my dad, and then I had them." She smiled, adding, "And now I have you and…"

"_Clara_," the doctor interrupted, "Push."

Watching her look away from him, his hands turned automatically, allowing her to grip them as she made a small noise of protest before bearing down and bending slightly. He took a breath and held it, releasing it only when she shifted back against him calmly as the doctor between her legs nodded up at her. It seemed like only a moment later she was being encouraged to push again and he felt as though his insides were on fire with anticipation through a third and fourth attempt. On the fifth, her entire body shuddered against him with the effort and then she gasped with relief and fell back just as the doctor laughed and held tightly to the squirming child in his arms.

John gaped, feeling Clara resting her temple to his cheek as they watched Liam's small hands open and close as they wove through the air against the cold and the nurse clearing his airways. And then he whined, quietly and with a small hiccup, before he inhaled his first lung-full of air and wailed properly to everyone's delight. Clara raised her arms to him and they placed him gently in them and she cried watching the baby's bottom lip tremble as John was handed a pair of scissors to cut his umbilical cord.

"He's beautiful," Clara breathed, finger tightly held within the boy's grasp.

"Clara, he's perfect," John replied in a whisper, one hand coming up to ghost over their son's head while the other brushed over his tiny feet. He looked to the small chest rising and falling quickly with his breaths and then to his reddened lips, already set in Clara's pout, and the nose – he sighed – he had her odd and adorable little nose. The boy blinked up at them as he went silent, calming in his mother's arms, and then he yawned, a squeak escaping before he half-grinned involuntarily and continued to watch them study him.

"Hello, Liam," Clara whispered before sniffling and laughing when he popped his lips at her.

"Welcome, Liam," John told him, running a finger along their son's arm and watching him wiggle against the sensation as he added gently, "We're your mum and dad."

Liam made a noise of approval and they laughed together.

Nudging Clara's temple with his chin, John waited until she turned to kiss her, smiling against her lips and then telling her happily, "Came a month early to celebrate with us."

She chuckled, looking back to their son. His eyelids were hanging lazily and he was squishing his lips together, showing off his father's dimples. Clara brought him closer, pressing a kiss to his small forehead and whispering, "Merry Christmas, Liam."


	24. Chapter 24

The door opened quietly and Clara smiled at the two sets of large brown eyes that peered in cautiously before Dave ushered them fully into the room. She held Liam in her arms and watched Olive stand on tip-toe to try and get a better look as she reached the bed with Henry, both silent as they watched the bundled up infant in her arms continue sleeping. John shifted forward, taking the boy from Clara and he moved to sit on a couch pressed against the wall underneath a window and the twins came to stand in front of him, Henry with his finger curled over his lip and Olive with her hands grasped together at her stomach.

"Can we touch him?" Henry asked.

John smiled, hand coming up to give the boy's shoulder a rub as he nodded, "Of course you can touch him, just be careful, especially round his head."

Olive reached out and slid a knuckle along Liam's left cheek, smiling when the baby murmured, corner of his lip jerking up into a grin. "How long does mummy have to be at the hospital?"

"Not long," John told her quietly. "We'll all be home quite a lot sooner than you can imagine."

Henry bent slowly over his brother and whispered, "Hi Liam, I'm Henry – your older brother." He straightened and looked down into the now open eyes of the infant who stared at him, brow rising slightly in consideration. "I think…" Henry started with a nod, "I _think_ he likes me."

Clara laughed from the bed, lying back against the pillow on the raised backing and she watched Olive tug on Henry's shirt to tell him assuredly, "He's very happy with you, Henry."

The older boy beamed back at Clara and she wiped at her eyes to keep her tears of joy from spilling over at the sight of the four of them. The four of them, she thought to herself. _My family_. She felt her father at her side and she glanced up at him as he kissed her forehead and asked her quietly, "How are you feeling, Clara?"

With a slow nod, she admitted, "Exhausted." Then she looked back at John and the children and she added softly on a sigh, "Excited."

"I gave Marge a call, let her know you and the baby were doing fine…" He arched an eyebrows as he continued, "She told me to tell you to remember no funny business for a few months."

Laughing, Clara glanced over when she felt Olive grip her pinky and she smiled down at the girl, "I'm sorry about earlier, Olive – I know you were confused…"

The girl shook her head, interrupting her with a quick, "It's ok, mummy. Henry helped me."

"Would you like to hold him?" Clara asked her.

Henry turned, surprised, replying, "Can we?"

Standing, John nodded, "Of course you can." He gestured to the couch and they both climbed onto the cushions, waiting awkwardly, hands held out on their laps and John lowered himself to them, lying the baby between them, "Support his head, but be careful not to touch it too much, remember we talked about how his skull isn't quite finished yet…" his hands slipped away and the two children held their younger brother carefully, but securely, and studied him as he wiggled within the blanket he'd been swaddled tightly in.

"Hi Liam," Olive told him with a smile and she chuckled to herself.

John nodded, "Suppose you feel that he's happy with you as well, Olive."

She smirked up at him.

The door to the room opened and Angie stuck her head in, calling, "Hello, Oswalds!"

"Angie!" Henry and Olive cried in hushed voices together, neither moving an inch.

The young woman entered the room, giving Dave a quick hug before moving to embrace Clara as Artie entered silently and nodded to the man there, waiting for his turn to greet his former nanny. Angie looked her over and gave her a smug grin before declaring, "So you look great for someone who gave birth two hours ago."

"I look great?" Clara repeated with a laugh. "I look like a hag."

"No you don't, mummy," Henry told her firmly. "You look pretty."

"I agree with Henry," Artie offered, smiling shyly as he moved around Angie to hug Clara tightly listening to the children shout his name, still deathly still with Liam in their laps. "So," he nodded to the baby Angie was approaching, "A bit early?"

With a shake of her head, Clara shrugged, "Just over a month, but he's perfectly fine." Then she sighed and told them, "Weighed in at eight pounds, six ounces – can't imagine what he'd been if he'd stayed in to term."

"They got almost eight and a half pounds out of you," Angie laughed as she lifted Liam into her arms and the twins rushed to hug Artie, "Bet that took stitching."

Clara frowned and replied dryly, "Let's not discuss the stitching."

"What did they stitch?" Henry asked, voice wrought with concern as he leaned up against the bed and tapped on the paper bracelet at Clara's wrist, watching her smile down at him and shake her head to let him know it was nothing.

"Dad sends his love," Artie interrupted and Clara nodded her thanks for both the words and the change of subject, before he looked to Angie and teased, "So you and Ralph gonna make a baby of your own soon?"

"Things moving along with Ralph?" Clara asked and the twins giggled in amusement.

Angie turned and scowled at her brother, "_Shut it_ – you gonna be making babies with that stupid girl Macie from your little gang of idiots?"

Clara held her hands up and sighed, "Whoa, whoa, no one's making babies in this room and _hello_… watch the tongues, my kids are listening."

Henry glanced up at Artie and asked, "Why're you hanging out with a gang of idiots?"

With a nod to Angie, Clara gestured to the boy.

Artie rolled his eyes and assured Henry, "Just 'cause my sister doesn't like 'em, doesn't mean they're idiots." Then he turned to Clara, "They're sort of… they're… we're…"

"Go on," Clara nodded.

Clenching his jaw, Artie admitted, "We're a book club." He looked to his sister and spat, "We _read_ together and then have _discussions_."

To his surprise, Angie looked impressed and she told him plainly, "Sorry, Artie – that's actually pretty cool. This mean you're looking to go to uni?"

"Of course I am," he laughed before looking to Henry and Olive to nod.

Olive tugged on his jacket and told him boldly, "I'm going to write books one day, uncle Artie – will you read them in your club?"

Artie knelt in front of her and assured, "Of course I will, Olive! That'd be brilliant, but you'd have to come to the group and let us ask you questions since, you know, you're my niece."

She smiled shyly and told him, "That would be nice."

Going to her brother, Angie nudged him with her knee until he stood and she handed Liam to him, watching his face freeze in terror as he looked to the baby now making a sour face at him. "He doesn't like me."

Olive frowned, "That's not true, he's just hungry."

Artie moved slowly towards Clara and she laughed as she took her son and grabbed a blanket off the table next to her to drape over the baby as she carefully brought him to her breast, feeling somewhat embarrassed as the men in the room turned away.

Henry pointed, laughing, and bluntly said, "Is that why daddy called you milk jugs!?"

Turning, Clara watched John go red in the face as she asked, "You called me _milk jugs_?"

He raised his hands, "They asked what the baby would eat, it seemed like the simplest explanation at the time, now maybe not – _don't be mad_ – but I said you developed, sort of, milk jugs especially for the baby."

Chuckling, she shook her head, "It's silly is all."

Angie tapped Artie with the back of her hand and nodded to Clara, "We should go, visiting hours over soon, just wanted to drop by." She moved forward to give Clara another hug as Artie kept his distance, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. They left quietly and Dave sighed down at the children.

"'Bout time we head out too, kids."

They whined.

"Now, now," he scoffed, "Your mum needs her rest and you get to come spend the night at my place."

Henry and Olive were disappointed, turning back to Clara and John, hoping they'd be allowed to stay, but John beckoned them to the couch and told them quietly, "You go with grandpa and you make a surprise for Liam and mummy. A sign to welcome them home, alright?"

The duo perked up, nodding excitedly, and they moved to the bed, hopping slightly before John and Dave lifted them on either side so they could kiss Clara's cheeks and she dropped the blanket away so they could peck gentle kisses to the side of Liam's head. Dave sighed down at his daughter once he'd placed Olive back on the ground and he shook his head.

"He looks exactly like you did as a baby," he told her, tears easy in his eyes.

Clara smiled down at the boy suckling calmly before glancing up at the man who watched her proudly and just a bit sadly, and she understood that unlike with the twins, this time he wouldn't be there. She reached out to take his hand and give it a squeeze because she remembered those first restless months when it was her and her father taking turns waking during the night to check on Henry and Olive. When he comforted her in those moments she thought she wouldn't get through or wasn't doing enough and when they shared in the simple joys of both babies asleep in their crib.

Dave touched Liam's head, thumb brushing his temple, and he sighed, "I remember when you were modest about this sort of thing." Clara laughed as her father straightened and looked to John with a nod, "Give me a call, first thing."

John nodded and the other man took each child by the hand and led them out into the hall, stopping for a moment to shut the door. He looked down at Clara and smiled, "I still can't believe he's here."

Knuckles moving softly over the boy's cheek, Clara nodded and looked up at John, overwhelmed by the adoring look he was giving the boy – the same one he gave the twins when they were playing and he watched them from afar. As if fascinated by their every movement. John caught her first tear and he bent slightly to kiss her before shifting his gaze down at Liam. The boy's jaw worked slowly now, stopping every so often as he fought sleep, and John smiled, telling him quietly, "Mummy does have nice milk jugs, doesn't she?"

Clara laughed and leaned into the man beside her, raising a hand to rub at his back. With a sigh, she stared down at the pale skin and the closed eyes and she glanced back up at John, "We make good babies," she admitted, then added shyly, "Perhaps I won't cut you off just yet."

His brow furrowed slightly as he considered her words and then he released a breath and kissed her temple, telling her quietly, "Clara Oswald," and, in Gallifreyan, he added, "You can't begin to understand how much I love you."

Nodding slowly, she replied with a knowing smile, "I believe I do."


	25. Chapter 25

"They're not going to jump out at me are they?" Clara asked suspiciously as they approached the house and she saw the boy rushing back towards the front door excitedly, his mouth working to shout words she couldn't quite make out through the smoke bellowing from his lips.

John laughed, hand reaching over to take hers as he shook his head and allowed, "No, I warned them it might not be the best time for those kinds of surprises," then he glanced at her, "Are you feeling alright?"

With a nod and a glance back at the car seat secured tightly just behind John's seat, she smiled and sighed, "I can't wait to be home."

It's wasn't that it had been long, she'd just missed them all being together. Clara relaxed into the seat as they pulled up the driveway as she considered it – she missed her bed, her husband lying by her side, and her kids bouncing at their feet making silly faces at them. She missed her couch, her babies cuddled under her arms, and John making popcorn in the kitchen so they could watch a movie. Clara missed her family, telling stories and laughing around the dining room table. And it had barely been two days.

He watched her as she looked over the front of her house, roof sparkling with fresh snow, smoke slowly trailing up from the chimney into the twilight sky, and she laughed when the Christmas lights blinked on and the Santa illuminated. "We're home," he offered quietly.

She turned, lips pressed together tightly as she nodded, "We definitely are."

They moved out of the vehicle, Clara slowly slipping out of her seat to stand just outside of the SUV as John climbed into the back to undo the car seat from its base, carefully bringing Liam out into the cold. He smiled down at his son, eyes squeezing shut against the temperature, and then looked up to Clara as she turned and made her way towards the front door, keys in her hand, satisfied grin on her face. John felt his heart beat quicken as he realized that somehow, this had been a test. For the both of them.

He'd been back eight months and for eight months while she'd carried his child, she'd also carried the quiet fear that he'd change his mind. Clara had been harboring that secret apprehension that he'd decide her life wouldn't be enough for him and she'd done it worrying about the three precious lives he'd leave in her charge. And in that moment, arriving home with their newborn son, she'd finally accepted that his decision hadn't been made with haste – the Doctor wanted to be John Oswald.

Reaching up quickly, he touched her elbow just as she reached the door and she turned, eyebrows rising slightly with the unspoken question he answered, "We're home, Clara. _All of us_."

Looking down at Liam, she laughed before John bent and caught her lips with his and she released an unexpected sigh before slipping back and nodding, "I know."

He grinned and shook his head slightly, "They might scream."

Clara chuckled, "I'll head in first then."

Pushing open the door, she looked into the living room automatically, seeing the two children standing in front of her father with a large taped together sign between them that read 'Welcome Home Mummy and Liam' in multiple colors with a drawing of the five of them holding hands underneath it. They both jumped slightly, screaming the words at her as she laughed and Dave caught the sign in mid-air before they launched themselves at her, both colliding with her hips, arms reaching around her and meeting each other's shoulders as they crushed her in a hug.

Behind her she heard John close the door and he held Liam in his car seat, waiting for the children to release Clara so she could bend slightly to hug them properly before they turned their attention to John and she could see by the small jumps they were giving, they longed to hug the man, but were fearful of harming the baby he held. She raised a hand and he gave her a small grin as she took Liam before he dropped to his knees and Henry and Olive rushed forward to clutch at him.

Clara set the car seat down atop the coffee table and she looked in on the sleeping boy, turning up the handle so she could remove him and coo at him as his eyes opened and he blinked up at her. Smiling back at John, pressing kisses into each child's neck, she released a long sigh and waited until he looked up at her, his eyes shining with happy tears and she nodded while he chuckled, listening to both children asking him if they'd done alright with their sign.

"We worked on it all day," Henry told him proudly.

"Grandpa helped us pick the colors," Olive added, looking up at the man who reached to take Liam from Clara, holding him gently against his chest and laughing as the boy yawned up at him.

Dave sat on the couch and Olive went to him as Henry wrestled John to the ground and Clara laughed as they tried to out-tickle one another… John was the easy winner. Dave sighed at Liam and told him, "Look at your beautiful little face." Then he looked to John, "Sorry John, definitely Clara's boy."

John only smiled, rolling onto his stomach as Henry stumbled away looking happily dazed. He nodded to the man and admitted, "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Sitting next to her father, Clara pulled Olive into her lap and shook her head, "He'll have daddy's eyes."

Meeting John's, Clara smiled as he grinned deviously and they were both thinking the same thing – _he'll get away with a lot with those eyes_. John looked to Henry and then to Olive and asked, "Shall we start on food?"

Not taking his sight off his new grandson, Dave told them quickly, "Ordered pizza a few minutes ago, when you said you were almost home."

Henry and Olive screamed with delight and Liam jumped, arms flailing slightly as his face puckered and Olive immediately shifted off Clara, whispering, "Sorry, Liam." Then she glared at Henry, who stared back in shock, as if to say, '_You shouted too_!'

Taking Liam back, Clara stood and rocked him slightly, telling the children, "It's alright, he's going to have to get used to the two of you." Grinning, she touched the top of Olive's head and then went to caress Henry's chin. "No worries, sweet pea," she whispered at Liam, now quieting, lip quivering slightly as he pouted up at her, "You'll be startling them soon enough."

Once she was down the hall, Olive and Henry looked to John, both clearly unsure, and he shook his head, kneeling in front of them to assure them, "You've done nothing wrong."

Henry's mouth twisted slightly as he asked, "Are you sure mummy's not mad at us for scaring Liam?"

Looking to Olive, John gestured and the girl smiled, shaking her head. "Babies get scared," John started in a whisper, adding, "They're new to the world and everything around them is a surprise. The cold outside, the sound of your voice… the feel of a bath is going to come as quite of a shock," he smiled as they laughed, "And sometimes he's going to cry because he doesn't know what's happening and it's alright because it's how he'll learn."

They nodded and then suddenly Olive gasped and she exclaimed, "Daddy, he's not going to know the sound of your Tardis!"

The words stung him unexpectedly, because deep down he had a memory of a moment he'd been told it was the sound of hope and he smiled at the girl sadly. "Olive, he won't need it – he'll have your laughter and Henry's silliness and mummy's lullabies and…"

"You," they both told him with a quick nod and a chuckle.

"Me?" He asked incredulously, glancing at Dave a moment to see the man watching him with a grin.

"Your stories," Henry offered, eyebrows rising.

"And your hugs," Olive told him, falling into his arms as Clara re-emerged from the bedroom.

She slowly crouched to her knees next to him and handed Liam over, watching as John carefully cradled the boy to his chest and smiled down at him. "He'll have you," she whispered, kissing his temple before raising her arms to Henry, who gently sat against her and settled his head on her shoulder.

John nodded slowly, staring into the eyes that looked up into his, small brow rising in contemplation before he began chewing on his lip. With a chuckle, he looked to Olive and then Henry and asked quietly, "Would you two watch your brother while mummy and I settle her things back in our room?"

Henry straightened and his eyes widened, "What do we have to do?"

Nodding John began, "There's a blanket on his crib, the one Marge made for Liam, we'll need it."

As Henry jumped off and ran to the room, he looked to Olive, "All you have to do is talk to him." Henry threw the thick knitted blanket on the floor and arranged it evenly as John laid Liam down, explaining, "Make sure to tell him all about yourselves, tell him stories about what you like and warn him about what he shouldn't do and if he falls asleep, you stay quiet and keep watch."

Helping Clara off the ground, John stood back and they watched both children lie down on their stomachs on either side of the baby and, in hushed whispers, they both began to take turns speaking, smiling as the baby turned from one voice to the other. He touched Clara's elbow and when she turned, he wiped her tears and nodded with understanding, seeing Dave crouch to join the children.

"I'll get your bag from the car," he offered, giving her arm a squeeze before going back to the front door, lifting the keys from the small table just inside.

He chuckled, turning back when he heard her laugh softly at something Henry had said – be careful about robots, especially giant ones – and then he pushed out through the door, exhaling a long sigh into the frigid night sky and stopping when he found the odd bassinet sitting a few feet away. John frowned, but then he smiled, reaching out to drop his hand atop the wooden object before lifting a finger to touch the hanging planets and stars and he glanced up to see the old man across the street, standing just beside the Tardis.

The Doctor smiled, his chin rising slightly before his head dropped away on a laugh and he moved into the blue box with a small wave. Turning back, John lifted his old bassinet and carried it to the door, carefully bringing it just inside as Clara turned, giving it an odd look. And she understood, corners of her mouth lifting just before the familiar woops and wheezes began.

"We did need a bassinet," she told him simply.

They looked to the baby whose eyes widened slightly as the children turned to look at him, eyes drifting to the front door as the Tardis completed its departure before relief washed over them as they realized their father stood calmly just beside their mother and John could see it on their faces – they'd been unknowingly holding onto the same fears as their mother. And he saw that small flicker of doubt fade as they smiled up at him contentedly.

Liam let out a small, unexpected screech, and the two jumped before they dissolved into giggles on either side of their brother and John dropped his arm around Clara as she shook her head. "Oh he's going to give them hell," Clara whispered.

With a nod, John replied with a smirk, "That's because he's definitely my son."


	26. Chapter 26

Her feet touched the floor lightly as she moved out of bed towards the crying infant, lifting him out of the bassinet just beside her and bringing him to her chest, hands soothingly stroking his back as he complained. Clara glanced at John, face planted into his pillow, and she smiled, rocking Liam lightly as she checked on his nappy with a quick pat of her palm to his backside and found it full. She changed him quickly while he stared up at the ceiling, small cries still shuddering from his lungs as his father continued to sleep.

With a laugh, Clara climbed back up into bed and sat against the headboard, giving the boy her breast and glancing sideways when John rolled towards her, his arm wrapping around her thighs before he finally looked up at her and smiled. "Sleep well?" She asked.

"What's the time?" He groaned.

Glancing at the clock beside her, she admitted, "Four in the morning."

"Four?" He repeated. "Four? He was just up at one for a feeding."

Clara chuckled, sighing and reaching to stroke John's hair off his brow and then brush the back of her palm over his cheek as he grinned. "Every few hours he needs to eat, I thought you'd gotten the message every night..."

With a shrug, he admitted, "I thought we'd get an advanced baby who slept through the night after the first few weeks."

She managed a snort and told him plainly, "Liam's a Godsend – you should have been here for Henry and Olive… crying at all hours, for no reason. At least with him," she nodded down at the boy whose hand now gripped at her skin, "He cries when he needs a nappy change or a feeding." Turning to look at John, she found him leaned on his elbows, staring down at his fingernails. "Hey," she called, "What's wrong?"

He shifted to look up at her with a guilty smile, "I should have been here for Henry and Olive."

"Let's not start on that again," Clara warned.

John shook his head. "Sorry, it's just sometimes I can't help but understand how hard it must have been for you because taking care of one baby – one _Godsend_ whose actually been quite pleasant – is enough to keep us all on our toes…" his voice tapered off and he brought his eyes back up to her, "Every few hours, _so seven_, you suppose? I could use the _reserves_ in the fridge; let you rest some while I ready the children for school?"

Shifting down to lay next to him, Clara carefully cradled Liam against her as she kissed John and she smiled when his hand lifted to rub along her hip because his lips curled upward and she shook her head. "Not quite yet."

He frowned when he pulled away, but nodded and looked to Liam, who'd dropped off Clara's nipple and was lying content between them, hint of a grin on his face. "You get to have all the fun," John teased the boy, picking him up and lying him against his chest as John rolled onto his back. He patted him a few times and Liam released a small belch before trying to lift his head to look at his father.

Clara laughed quietly, hand coming up to touch his back as she shifted closer to John. She laid her cheek against John's shoulder and smiled at Liam, who dropped his own cheek down against his father's chest to look at her with a long sigh. John watched them, seeing the small grins the boy gave his mother as she made faces at their son while he held the baby in place.

The body in his hands squirmed slightly, inching in Clara's direction when she asked, "Are you ready for more, sweet pea?"

Handing him over, John sighed as Liam latched onto her breast again, sucking hungrily now. He listened to Clara hum a lullaby for the boy and he felt somewhat awestruck by her. In all of the chaos of the weeks after bringing Liam home, she'd been steady and calm. She'd made sure the children were ready to return to school after the winter holiday and she'd continued to make sure he was up and ready for work each morning. Her eyes were always bright and ready for the four of them, despite her exhaustion and she somehow found time, little moments through the day, for each of them.

Clara read Olive's latest story aloud while the girl acted it out with her dolls as Liam slept calmly at her chest. She sat and raced cars with Henry in his room just before bed and always let him win as Liam watched from his 'tummy time' mat. And she made absolutely sure that every evening she sat with John and asked him about his day just after she'd settled Liam in his bassinet after a long feeding.

"How do you do it?" He asked her quietly, fingers drifting up to push hair behind her ear.

She hummed up at him, brow rising slightly at the question.

"Always exactly what we all need, exactly when we need it," he surmised as she shifted Liam.

Clara chuckled, "Thought I told you – that's a mum's job."

He shook his head, "You're so much more than just a mum, Clara."

"I know," she smiled, "You remind me every day." Then she nodded, "And that's how I do it. All of the extra tight hugs, or the small stolen kisses, or the looks I catch you giving me when you think I'm not looking..."

John stopped her with a hungry kiss, fingers of his right hand curling around the back of her neck to hold her to him as his tongue swirled over hers and he heard her release a sigh before she touched his chest to stop him. He laughed, nodding, "I wasn't trying to…" he trailed, eyes roaming her nightgown.

"I know," she told him, amused. Clara glanced at the baby now asleep against her and she hissed slightly, allowing, "We could try."

John shook his head, "No, it's far too _early_, you're still too _fragile_."

Clara grinned up at him and sat up, not bothering to cover her exposed breast as she moved to place Liam in his bassinet before crawling back into the bed and spreading herself over him, palms finding their way underneath his shirt. "Then be gentle," she prompted.

* * *

"Mummy?"

The voice was small, whispered, and Clara frowned before opening one eye to find Olive lying in John's spot on her side, fully dressed in her school uniform, staring at her. She raised her head, rubbing at her face before looking down at her daughter who was now grinning up at her in amusement. "What's so funny, bug?" Clara asked on a half laugh.

Olive shrugged, "Your hair's all," she brought her fingers up and made a face.

Chuckling, Clara supplied, "Well, I just woke up, silly girl."

The girl giggled and asked, "Can we stay home with you, like Liam?"

"Oh, no," she replied quickly, "You have school… nice try though."

Olive pressed her lips together and frowned.

"Is something wrong?" Clara asked, pulling herself closer to hug the girl, immediately feeling for a temperature and finding her forehead normal.

Snuggling against her mother, Olive shrugged, "I just like being with you, mummy."

"And I like being with you, baby," she told her quietly, glancing up when she saw Henry leaning against the doorframe, peering at her like his father did and she waved him onto the bed, smiling when he launched himself up over the edge and came to rest next to Olive. "It's almost the weekend," she reminded them. "We'll make snow angels in the yard and hot cocoa by the fire."

"Can we have a snowball fight with daddy?" Henry asked mischievously.

"How about you and your mum against me and Olive?" John called from the door, cradling Liam in his arms before looking down at him and adding, "Liam will have to sit it out for now."

The two children laughed as the baby grasped his hands together and made a face. Clara gestured to the dresser and told John, "Get the camera, bring Liam over. We haven't had a chance to get a proper photo of us all."

Olive reached up to smooth her mother's hair as Henry shook his head and declared, "That's not gonna work, Olive, you need some spit," and he began to lick his palm, but Clara stopped him, shaking her head and giving him a perplexed look, to which he replied, "That's how you fix my hair."

"Uh, no," she sighed as John laid the camera down and carefully climbed into the bed at Henry's side and they shifted to accommodate him, Henry reaching forward for the camera and snapping a shot of his face as he cheese-grinned and then blinked rapidly against the flash's effect.

Olive chuckled at him a moment, but both children stilled when Liam was placed between them. They each placed a protective hand at his chest and tummy and looked down at him as he considered the new position and shifted his head back to look at them both, smiling at them easily.

Holding the camera out, John nudged them and said slowly, "Everyone… Oswalds for the win!"

"Oswin!" The twins cried in unison as Clara laughed and John smiled and he snapped the photo, letting the camera fall back to the bed.

"And now it's time for school and work," he told them, watching the pouts immediate on their faces before Clara took the baby and waited for both children to turn and give her hugs. They each kissed Liam on his cheek, each receiving a smirk in return, and then they sadly flopped off the bed and went to retrieve their school bags and wait for their father.

"You've got the booster seats in the car," Clara noted, knowing they'd have to be removed from the SUV and put into the company vehicle UNIT had given him.

He nodded.

"You've packed their lunches and made sure their homework is in their bags?"

John smiled.

"You've made sure the oven's not left on and the back door's locked?" Now she grinned at the look he was giving her, as though she were being ridiculous and he knew that she absolutely was.

He crawled back onto the bed and kissed her lips quickly before inching back and looking down at Liam, who gurgled up at him, mouth opening widely and spreading into a smile for his father, bright green eyes widening as John dropped down to smother him in kisses. Clara laughed, listening to the boy squeal before John lifted his head again and sighed at his son. He met her gaze and kissed her again, longer this time and teased, "I have a car now; I may come home for an early lunch."

"Am I on the menu?" Clara whispered.

His grin grew deliciously as he inched back with a shrug, telling her coyly, "It's possible, but I must warn you, my appetite is insatiable."

Clara laughed as he slipped off the bed with a wink and she listened as the children asked him what had taken so long and he'd argued, "It's your mum, all the instructions – how to get to your school; how to turn the car on. Blimey, the woman thinks I can't properly dress myself in the morning… _wait_, I may have forgotten my shorts."

The two children laughed knowingly and then the door closed behind them and Clara looked down at Liam, who was grinning up at her, giving her his father's eyes and she chuckled with a nod, "I know that look… I suppose you want another feeding, huh, sweetie?"

He sighed happily in response.


	27. Chapter 27

Planning a wedding, ordinarily, was no picnic, but, as Clara rummaged through a drawer for candles while asking a caterer what sort of flowers one might put on a cake, she realized planning a wedding with a newborn baby swaddled in a Bjorn against her chest while celebrating her twin's birthdays might have been a dumb idea. Of course, she also didn't want to postpone it any further.

"Sorry," she told the confused woman on the line, "I'm a bit spread thin right now. Could you just send me my options in an email? I swear I'm much more organized when I'm not trying to time an infant's feeding with guests arriving."

"Clara?" John called. "Clara, is this right?"

Finishing her email address, she apologized again and hung up the phone, dropping it on the counter before heading towards the living room to tilt her head at the sign hanging there. She smiled when the man holding the right end grinned down at her awkwardly and gestured with an arm. "Bit higher," she instructed just as Liam squirmed against her and began slobbering through the fabric and onto her blouse. "Oh, you're early," she managed, sitting down on the couch to work through the layers she wore and she grimaced when Liam immediately chomped down on her.

John pinned the sign and looked back down at her, offering with a hiss, "Woke up hungry?"

"He's gnawing on me like a piece of jerky," she spat in frustration.

"Are you sure you're lactating…" he started, but stopped short when she eyed him.

Clara assured, "I'm lactating just fine; _your son_ is just aggressive."

He managed a smirk and came back down the ladder to look at the Happy Birthday sign strung up in the living room and turned, "I could still get that piñata."

"Absolutely not," Clara laughed.

"They'd love it!" He exclaimed, arms stretched in her direction.

With a nod, she agreed, "Yeah, they would, and we'd be picking confetti out of crevices for months."

"Could do it outdoors," he offered.

"In the snow, John?" For a moment she regretted that they didn't still have the environmental stabilizer because that would have been a good suggestion – if they had it.

He shrugged, "What time is your father bringing them back from the stores? Three, right?"

"_Said_ three." She nodded, "What time did you tell Martha and Jack to be here?"

The doorbell rang.

"John," she said plainly.

"Two thirty, I thought it was a surprise party," he gasped, "You can't surprise them if the guests arrive at the same time as the birthday kids!" He moved to the front door and pulled it open and Clara heard Jack greet him happily before stepping into the living room and smile down at her.

"Feeding time," he nodded sideways, "Best time of day."

Standing, she shook her head at him, showing off her dimple with a wide smile, and she moved forward to hug him carefully before he looked down at Liam and she warned, "I hope you're looking at the baby and not…"

He laughed, "Clara, I got more respect for you than that – though you do have a great…"

"Oi!" John shouted, stepping into the living room with a scowl on his face.

Jack pointed a finger and scoffed, "Need I remind you, I probably watched this baby's conception!"

They both went crimson and looked to the ground before Clara finally moved around Jack and went into the kitchen to find the candles she'd been searching for before. John tugged at his collar and glanced up at the man who smirked back at him.

Raising the bags, he offered, "I got them a mad scientist lab kit and some hairstyle doll."

"They'll be happy about that," John smiled, before frowning, "Until the doll ends up in the lab kit." He shook his head, "Just settle…" he started, before the doorbell rang again and Clara called out to him to answer it.

Rushing forward, John pulled the door open and he shouted, "_Mickey_!" as he clapped his arms around the man who laughed, returning the hug.

Martha shook her head at the two men and she released her grasp on Sam so he could launch himself into the living room to throw himself onto the couch and continue playing with his toy soldier dolls. Then she shifted into the kitchen, finding Clara standing beside the counter, one hand cradled around the infant at her chest, the other curled at her lip, considering the space in front of her.

"Look a bit dazed," Martha offered.

Clara smiled up at her, "I can't find the candles. Swore I had some."

"None came with the cake?" Martha asked brightly, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter and moving closer to the woman to peer in on Liam. "How are you two doing?"

"Hungry," Clara laughed, "Always hungry." Her stomach grumbled slightly and she frowned, "And now I'm hungry."

Martha eyed her and frowned, "Have you even _had_ _lunch_?"

She shook her head, "Had to clean up, the kids made a mess of the living room last night and we overslept and we've been rushing to get the cake and a few decorations."

Martha sighed, going to the fridge and pulling out several items, "Don't worry about the candles, Clara. Sit down a moment, feed Liam, and I'll make you a sandwich."

Turning to appreciate the other woman, Clara closed her eyes and nodded, telling her quietly, "Sometimes I swear I've lost my mind." Then she moved to lean against the counter next to Martha. "Forget myself on occasion," she added, finger coming up to brush Liam's cheek.

"Lot on your plate," Martha supplied, "Twins, new baby, wedding – have you got that all sorted yet?"

Shaking her head, she admitted, "Barely started. And it's nothing fancy at all."

"Tell me he's helping you," Martha hissed as she pressed a second piece of bread atop the small pile of ham and cheese she'd compiled. She handed it to Clara, who took a large bite and chewed thoughtfully, nod slow and considered.

She whispered, "Think he's more apt to help himself to a bit of me, but he's doing his best."

"Clara, you had a baby less than two months ago! You steer him away from you and onto a pile of laundry," Martha warned with a laugh.

Hand pressed to her mouth, Clara replied coyly, "Whether it's the laundry or me that needs to be done, don't you worry, it gets done."

They laughed loudly and Martha glanced up when Mickey popped his head in with a grin and asked, "You girls talking bad about us again?"

John leaned in and questioned, face wrought with concern, "Are you talking bad about us? Have we done something wrong?"

Mickey reached up and directed John back into the living room, "Figure of speech, Doctor. Let's put up the decorations. Sam… you help us out, eh?"

At four minutes after three, they stood as they heard the key slip into the front door and Clara glanced down momentarily at the baby grinning up at her from his comfortable spot at her chest, giving him a small apologetic smile because she knew he was about to be startled. The door opened and they shouted, "Surprise!" as Henry and Olive stepped inside, both giving a jump, their mouths an 'o' of shock before slipping upwards into large smiles.

They moved forward, both holding bags that contained the presents their grandfather had purchased for them, and they greeted Sam by showing off the remote control car and the talking doll and the trio dropped to the ground to begin playing as the adults fell into casual conversation again. Dave moved to take Liam from Clara, who sighed her satisfaction as Martha laughed. They sat on the couch as the three men began discussing football, but ended up all cooing at the baby giggling back at them.

Mickey's eyes dropped to his son, laughing loudly with Olive over the fact that her doll's head could be turned completely around, and then he glanced up at Martha, giving her an almost imperceptible nod that brought a blush to her cheek. Clara chuckled and quietly told her, "I know _that_ look."

With a grin, Martha admitted, "We've talked about having another baby, and I guess with John talking his ear off about Liam… I think maybe we're ready to say _to hell_ with our schedules."

Clara laughed, declaring, "Good for you!"

"And you?" Martha asked, watching Clara as she looked to John, taking Liam into his own arms to snuggle as the boy reached out to grip at his hair.

Olive took a dinosaur from Henry's grasp and she made growling noises at one Sam held and Henry told them both he could run them over with his truck, shrieking, "E_xtinction prevails_!", and Clara sighed, turning to look at the other woman waiting for an answer and she whispered, "Yeah. Maybe when Liam's out of his nappies though," Clara told her firmly, hand absently falling atop her abdomen.

"Mummy, can we open presents?" Henry asked loudly.

She shook her head and when he frowned, she offered, "Wouldn't you like your cake first?"

The three children perked up and Clara rolled her eyes, standing and moving to the kitchen as John handed Liam to Jack, who fumbled for a moment, but then settled with the baby who raised one eyebrow at him cautiously. "Just like your mom," Jack whispered at the boy, who smiled deviously.

Clara removed the cake from the fridge and John glanced around, asking quietly, "Where are the candles?"

"Dunno, they were in the drawer last I saw, but they've gone missing."

He looked perplexed, but then raised a finger and moved out of the room, coming back in a moment later with the small box in his grasp and a guilty expression on his face as he began pressing seven candles into each side of the cake. "Olive and I had a small birthday party for her doll Betty a few nights ago – we needed candles for the play-doh cake Henry made."

"Where was I?" Clara asked in shock.

He smiled sheepishly, "You'd fallen asleep with Liam and we agreed not to wake you."

Clara watched him as he examined the candles, hands coming out slightly, judging their distance and she breathed a laugh, waiting until he straightened to grab hold of his sweater and pull him down against her lips. His palms fell to her waist and he sighed against her contently just before she slipped back and told him quietly, "You ridiculous man."

With a grin, he whispered, "I love you, too."

"Are you gonna stop kissing so we can have our cake?" Henry asked bluntly, leaned into the kitchen with Jack standing over him, still holding Liam, both wearing mischievous grins as they looked in on the adults.

"Oi you," John pointed to Henry and the boy shrieked as he rushed back out into the living room to seek protection behind his grandfather.

Clara lifted the cake and John lit the candles quickly. They moved carefully together into the living room and settled the cake on the coffee table as everyone sang Happy Birthday to the twins who knelt with Sam between the table and the couch. Henry pulled a birthday hat onto his head and Olive waved her arms slightly as the song came to an end and they both bent to blow out their candles, hands held, before backing away with a shared smile.

"Make a good wish?" Clara asked them.

Henry shrugged, eyes darting away a second before glancing up to tell her, "Don't need a wish."

Taking Liam from Jack, Clara laughed, "It's your birthday, and you should get wishes."

John chuckled and nodded, "Make one now. Eyes closed," he waited. "Magical hearts open," he prompted as they – along with Sam – smiled, "And think of a wondrous thing, anything at all."

Olive's eyes came open first and she glanced towards her mother. Clara watched the girl come around the coffee table to lean against her, head dropping onto her shoulder as she offered her hand for Liam to squeeze. "Mummy," Olive whispered, "I made a wish for you – is that ok?"

Henry inched up off the floor and moved to her other side, admitting, "I made a wish for you too, mum."

With a laugh, she looked from one child to the other and then glanced up at John, who was smirking at her, and she blushed, responding, "Well then, I am the luckiest mum in the world, aren't I?"

The twins giggled, exchanging a set of nods before Henry shouted, "_Let's eat cake_!"


	28. Chapter 28

It had started snowing unexpectedly just before eleven in the morning and Clara sighed as she looked out the window at the flurries steadily dropping from the afternoon sky. Of course it would be snowing, she considered. He loved when it snowed, told her it was nature's magic and he enjoyed frolicking with the children through the piles in the yard making snowmen and then destroying them in somewhat interesting ways. John didn't like the snowmen, and Clara had to admit – thanks to a few snippets of memories from an echo that occasionally surfaced – she didn't particularly care for them either.

"Don't worry, mummy – daddy says he's taken care of everything," Olive declared from where she sat on the bed watching Liam, who was on his stomach in baby slacks and a dress shirt, bow tie hanging at his neck. The boy raised his head to grin cheekily at Clara staring at herself in the mirror, trying to judge if her make-up was just right.

"Why does that frighten me more than reassure me?" Clara teased as Olive laughed, plucking at the hemline of the blue dress she wore.

"Mummy, dad says they're almost ready," Henry told her from the doorway and when she turned to look at him, he'd frozen, eyes wide as he stared at her, his mouth slightly open in shock before the corners tugged up into a surprised smile. "You look beautiful," he gasped.

Clara grinned at him, straightening, turning for him to get a look at her dress. It had been her mothers, something Dave told her she'd hoped Clara would wear someday, and Clara now ran her hands over the intricate patterns that hugged at her torso and then flowed out over her legs in waves of satin from her waist. She raising her arms towards Henry and he walked into them, giving her a quick hug before she touched the edges of the bow tie that matched Olive's dress and tapped his chin with her forefinger, "And you look handsome, just like your father."

His cheeks went pink as he asked, "Should I tell them you're ready?"

"Look at you," Dave breathed as he stepped into the bedroom and Clara could see the tears brightening his eyes. "My baby girl, getting married."

"Mum looks like a princess," Henry shifted back to tell him. "I think dad'll like it."

The look Dave offered made Clara chuckle and she nodded, looking to Olive, "Would you take Liam to gran? Then come right back, you have flowers to throw, little lady."

Olive giggled, slipping down and carefully picking Liam up into her arms to leave as Henry leaned on the bed, picking up the pillow on which their rings sat. Dave watched the girl go before turning and grinning at Clara, "Your John is cool as a cucumber out there."

Henry made a face and repeated, "_Cucumber_," under his breath as Clara smiled.

"How are you holding up?" Her father asked her quietly, moving around Henry to stand in front of her, hands at her shoulders.

Clara swallowed and admitted, "Bit nauseous, but otherwise fine."

"We should be heading out," he told her, nodding to the door as Olive returned for her basket.

With a tranquil smile, Clara told them, "You head to the kitchen; I've got one last bathroom stop."

Dave ushered the children out and Clara grabbed the edges of her dress, carrying it into the bathroom where she picked up the purple and white stick that sat perched atop the sink and she nodded at it, dropping it into the basket beside the toilet and telling her reflection on a sigh, "Well, that's that." She moved quickly down the hall and when she reached the door, Dave locked his arm into hers and then lifted his other to help her pull the veil over her face.

They stepped out through the kitchen door and Clara instantly shivered against the cold, but she laughed when she caught sight of the stripes that crossed in the sky over their yard. _So the birds wouldn't crash into the dome_. And as Henry and Olive headed out onto the aisle ahead of her, she watched the snow falling gently against the outside of the oversized and oddly shaped environmental stabilizer that covered their yard.

"He would…" she started with a grin and a shake of her head.

Dave whispered, "Said he'd let nothing ruin your wedding."

They moved to the edge of the curtained off area just outside and Clara sighed, "Priority one."

"What's priority one?" Dave asked her.

"His only priority," she smiled, then nodded and took the first step with a simple, "Me."

Clara moved through the curtains and locked eyes with John at the end of the aisle, Henry standing at his side proudly and she smiled, then laughed, feeling her eyes welling up as she tried to calm her feet from rushing to him. He sighed and nodded to her, then glanced up and raised his eyebrows and she shook her head, smirking at him as she made her way towards him. Dave handed her over and John took her arm as she smiled down at Olive, who threw a handful of red rose petals at her and gave a hop of delight.

It hadn't been what they'd planned, but it was exactly what they'd wanted.

All of their friends, even a pair in the back, discretely hidden from the prying eyes of Clara's relatives, behind Jack Harkness and Jenny Flint, gathered to share this moment with them. John raised her veil, tossing it back behind her and they stared at one another, grins devilish as the ceremony started, listening and reciting on cue and she laughed when John slipped her ring onto her finger with a whispered, "Are you sure this won't get lost amongst your overwhelming collection?"

She shook her head, taking his ring into her palm and looking up as the man to her left offered, "Clara would like to say a few words before we make this _unofficially_ officially official."

John raised an eyebrow and tilted his head and she chuckled nervously, staring at his feet before straightening and smiling up at him. "I just thought," she started quietly, "I just thought – _he always get a speech_. Big moments; big battles – John, _the Doctor_, he always gets his speech and maybe I could get mine. Just this once." She narrowed her eyes at him and he blushed as the small crowd laughed.

She took his free hand and nodded, feeling suddenly shy, but he ducked slightly, telling her silently, "Don't think about them; tell me."

"The first time I saw you, you showed up dressed as a monk, and everything about you _demanded_ being in my life and it felt like, for a while, you were always knocking, always asking and I thought – _this could be fun_, have a few adventures, a few laughs, and in a few weeks I could send you on your way and everything could go back to how it was. And I tricked myself into thinking that when you knocked and I answered, it wasn't to see that stupid grin on your face, or those big sad eyes of yours, or to laugh at your silly twirls, or listen to your voice going on and on about everything in the most beautiful ways. I tricked myself into thinking I just wanted to travel and you were just my tour guide. I wanted to see the universe. My 101 places. And you were the key to that. But somewhere along the way, you became so much more. You became that smell that wouldn't wash out of my clothes, that hand on my cheek I could feel hours later just closing my eyes, that first thought of every morning and the last of every night. And eventually you weren't knocking, you were casually strolling in, taking a seat, and making yourself at home."

Clara laughed, looking to Henry, who smirked, and then to Olive, who waved.

"The children asked you once, if love was travelling with someone and you told them it wasn't. You told them that love was knowing wherever you were, as long as you were with that _one special person_, you were home. I never realized before… You were making yourself a home in me. Of all the people in the universe, I was that unique set of bits that came together as the person who made you feel _at home_. And I came to understand, when you were gone, that you had become that for me. Every time you'd showed up with a story and an outstretched hand, you never had to ask if it was too dangerous, you never had to ask if I wanted to come along because I was already there. Right at your side. Wherever you were, wherever you were going, that was where I wanted to be because that's where I would be home."

With a shrug, Clara sniffled away her tears to smile up at him.

"We decided to do this on the anniversary of the day you came back, and," she shook her head, "Maybe, somewhere in my head, I thought – if you were still here on this day, then I could trust that you'd never leave again – because I know the life you gave up to be with me, I lived it with you long enough to know that the universe is a terrifying, but wondrous, place. It's full of scary things and magical places and I never imagined," she raised her hand back towards their house, "That this place would be enough, but I've seen it every single day since you've been back – there isn't a moment you don't cherish here. There isn't a word spoken, or a gesture given, or a…"

"_A nappy change_," he offered as everyone laughed and Clara touched her nose with her knuckle.

"A nappy change," she agreed, "That you don't revel in the same way you would a dying star or a diamond sky or a planet of poppies because this is your home." Clara held his ring tightly and nodded, "Henry and Olive and Liam are your heart, they burn like light in your eyes and your soul sings for them every minute of every day. And _we're_ a home here _with you_." Clara took his hand and slowly slipped the ring onto his finger, smiling when he took her hands within his. "As long as we're together, we're a home."

He touched his forehead to hers and they turned slightly to the man beside them, who nodded slowly and raised his arms, "I've never been as honored to say… I now pronounce you husband and wife." Then he tilted towards them and coyly told John, "You may now kiss your bride."

Clara laughed as John pressed his lips to hers and she felt the rose petals that delicately fluttered over the back of her dress while their family and friends cheered. John held her tightly, fingers rubbing her back slowly just before they broke their kiss and he told her in secret, "As far as speeches go, I would say that was a good one."

She playfully slapped at his chest and he kissed her quickly again. "Speaking of our home, we may need to invest in some renovations."

"Renovations?" He asked as they turned and began walking down the aisle to head back into the house while the yard was re-organized for the after-party, Clara lifting Liam into her arms as they went. "Is something broken?"

"Nope," Clara shouted over the guests just before they slipped past the curtain, Henry and Olive trailing behind them, watching their parents exchange quixotic glances before Clara finished, "But this snazzy little pregnancy test I picked up today says I'm about five weeks along."

John grinned at her as he declared, "No," in a surprised tone.

"Yeah, turns out we really should have been more ca…" her words were cut off by a kiss, one that took Clara's breath away and when he pulled back, she could see the glow on his face as he took her in. The way he always did, as though she were sparkling, but she held his eyes instead of blushing and turning away and she laughed when Liam made happy noises up at them.

Shifting closer to her, John laughed when the twins lunged at them from both sides, cheeks lying gently against either of their hips, and he dropped a hand to each of their heads before kissing Liam's. "Another magical heart," he whispered.

"We've got a pretty good home for him too," Olive offered.

"I'm going to need a bigger room," Henry muttered before chuckling.

With a laugh, Clara shifted and they ushered the children back into the kitchen door. They settled themselves into the couch as a family, Liam lying content against Clara's chest, as partygoers moved in and out of the house, offering congratulations while they waited for the tables to be set up inside the dome for dinner. Once they were back outside, Clara laughed as she watched Strax and Jack make faces at Liam while Jenny and Vastra slow-danced in a corner. She watched Artie, Mickey, Marge, and John discuss Shakespeare and listened as Angie and Olive made plans to visit the mall together and she smiled while Martha allowed Henry and Sam to take her hands to dance.

They partied until all of the guests had gone and they were left sitting in two chairs watching Henry and Olive continue to hop across the grass underneath the dome, exhausting the sugar they'd ingested from multiple stolen pieces of wedding cake. Clara rubbed small circles on Liam's back as she hummed to him and looked up at John, who was staring down at her lovingly. He pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead and she dropped her cheek to his shoulder. _Home_, she thought to herself as his arm wrapped around her, _would always been here_.

End


End file.
